“What? Oh… yesterday? That’s not... I’m a film student at university. That was Un Chien Andalou. It’s amazing it’s this French film by a Spanish director and even Salvador Dali helped to make the film he’s an-”
“He’s an artist… he does the funny clocks right?” Louis asked as he took a small sip of his coffee, it was sickly sweet and yet he liked it.
“You’re into art?” Harry’s voice seemed to echo a slight surprise.
“Not really, my boyfriend is mad about it, he thinks he’s going to be the next Van Gogh.”
There it was. The words Louis should have spoken from the very first second Harry had invited him to sit. He had a boyfriend. Yet, for some reason he hadn’t said it.
For a second he could swear he saw the other boy’s face fall, though it …show more content…
Louis was about to say how he much preferred the written word and probably just wanted to sit in a corner, sip his coffee, read a good novel and pout over the current state of the world when he remembers he was meant to be expanding his horizons. He gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded, moving over with Harry, placing in an ear bud and watching as he saw the same black and white scrawling titles from the day before fill his vision.
He was surprised when he found himself bewitched by this strange world of black and white, while time both passed in great leaps and bounds and there was no way at all one scene connected to the other. One moment there was a boy on a bike in a maid outfit and the next there was a woman and a man ogling at bugs crawling from a gnawed hole in the man’s hand. It was this odd mix of disjointed gore and awe that reminded Louis of a poem. He could understand, in a way, the point which they were trying to get across while still feeling as if he were missing something of great importance. As the last scene rolled by Louis looked to Harry
“He’s an artist… he does the funny clocks right?” Louis asked as he took a small sip of his coffee, it was sickly sweet and yet he liked it.
“You’re into art?” Harry’s voice seemed to echo a slight surprise.
“Not really, my boyfriend is mad about it, he thinks he’s going to be the next Van Gogh.”
There it was. The words Louis should have spoken from the very first second Harry had invited him to sit. He had a boyfriend. Yet, for some reason he hadn’t said it.
For a second he could swear he saw the other boy’s face fall, though it …show more content…
Louis was about to say how he much preferred the written word and probably just wanted to sit in a corner, sip his coffee, read a good novel and pout over the current state of the world when he remembers he was meant to be expanding his horizons. He gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded, moving over with Harry, placing in an ear bud and watching as he saw the same black and white scrawling titles from the day before fill his vision.
He was surprised when he found himself bewitched by this strange world of black and white, while time both passed in great leaps and bounds and there was no way at all one scene connected to the other. One moment there was a boy on a bike in a maid outfit and the next there was a woman and a man ogling at bugs crawling from a gnawed hole in the man’s hand. It was this odd mix of disjointed gore and awe that reminded Louis of a poem. He could understand, in a way, the point which they were trying to get across while still feeling as if he were missing something of great importance. As the last scene rolled by Louis looked to Harry