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Friday 15 June 2012

celluloid relapse : don’t cry for me, I’m already dead

Amy Miniter

Crying as an action of public self-dissection is invariably and perfectly exquisite. Be it subtle, spontaneous or blatantly narcissistic, its capacity to represent the diverse array of sentiment that it can is, quite frankly, incredible. Crying is introspective, histrionic and wholly fascinating. Almost nothing can beat the effortless allure of a tear sliding down a…
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