SYNOPSIS

Two half-whores, half-junkies, half-idiots, half-lesbians, discover that they mean nothing as characters, that they are barely an empty gesture of meanings, so they commit suicide, but no, because there will always be two others, half-whores, half-junkies, half-idiots, half-lesbians, to take their place, or they themselves repeating in the void. That we are here makes no sense, no matter how much we search for it, we are the grimace of a God who filled space just to fill it – like the God of Philip Gosse who created a fair number of aged fossils so that the world would seem older – to avoid feeling alone, like someone who collects Hustlers or The Preacher