I lie broken on the floor of my apartment again listening to the waves crash from the white noise machine. Like layers of televisual media built up to repress feelings for Owen, the waves lull me into a deep sleep that has become cyclical thinking. I wore clothing in public that made me giddy but now left me tired at home. Broken, again, from the images, again.
The music scene hit a lot harder, the over reliance (consumption) of media…