Martalemann

Not until I’ve completed going AAAAaaaaAAAAaaaa (breath) aaaaAAAAaaaaaaa and listening to the syllable echo again at me from each nearby constructing face. Got change for a wash-and-dry, simply not one other pair of pants to put on until they’re achieved. They’re eyeballing me because I’m definitively black, and since the holes in my clothes aren’t the fashionable sort. I’m actually singing to the cityscape beyond.

Penélope Cruz, Édgar Ramirez, Ana de Armas, Gael García Bernal, and Wagner Moura (Narcos’ Pablo Escobar, the presumptive cause Netflix snatched up this festival fizzler) painting a linked ensemble of drug-runners, double agents, and the collateral lives caught up of their operations.

Nowhere was the principle that every one wealth derives from labor more universally accepted as bizarre widespread sense, yet nowhere, too, was the counterattack in opposition to this common sense so calculated, so sustained, and so ultimately efficient. In what sense and for whom?