Santa promised them the complete works of Sylvia Plath, so
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Synecdoche, New York 2008
“What was once before you an exciting mysterious future is now behind you. Lived, understood, disapointing. You realize you are not special. You have struggled into existence and are now silently slipping out of it. This is everyone's experience. Every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone is everyone. So you are Adele, Hazel, Claire, Olive. You are Ellen. All her meager sadnesses are yours. All her loneliness. The gray straw like hair. Her red raw hands. It's yours. It…
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