A Large Crate Is Placed On The Bed Of A Truck

in which I have no clear idea where I lost

or rather the I have, but only sporadically and for brief moments that never last more than a few hours.

this, some say, is what makes me special.

this, I think, is what makes me inconclusive.

and now

a picture of a face that haunts me for a week now:

face in question was that of Tim (Taylor Kitsch, a name because a) of friday night lights. Now, besides being a handsome guy (wikipedia says it has done a testimonial for Abercrombie & Fitch, yes, those boys inexplicably shirtless in any weather), TIM this ability (or inability) to take one of the most poignant expressions of the history of television. I'm not kidding. there is no irony.

I started watching Friday Night Lights one (two?) Weeks ago and I developed the attraction to him has nothing to do with its beauty. but with that perpetually against (constipated?) that manages to have every damn shot.

while the camera takes tim is in a corner of the festival and you would be at that party and ask what is wrong, to declare your unconditional love and rip that smile that - instead - is once every 5 episodes. 5 episodes are so many.

a bit 'as is Sam Rockwell, Tim (picture from conviction, thanks) that, when it plays Zaphod Beeblebrox, has the innate ability to pull off an expression that does upset your guts twist. and this without even recite a line of script.

here, this innate ability to tell the world that the world itself makes you sick, struggling to make ends meet day and you have seen better days, I appreciate it. venerate it, almost. My mother always said that I have an expression of who takes to slap anyone, although I'm thinking about world peace, or taylor kitsch. maybe I should have to be an actress, grew up. I never reached the levels of sam rockwell? my proverbial inconclusiveness will leave us forever unanswered.