Blade Runner 2049

Blade Runner 2049 ★★★★★

For sale: baby socks. Never worn.

There is no sun, natural light died along with the people's memory of it, now the lights have lives of their own, they've learned to speak in such soothing voice, to feel and to love more than a human ever could. The sky itself is a myth, there's only tall buildings and taller buildings, protruding out from the pervasive fog like the tail of a slumbering monster. Is that why everyone speaks in whispers? To not awaken it? Ah, to live under constant fear and paranoia, welcome to Los Angeles. Outside the city limits, tangerine dust suspended mid-air as if a world engulfed in flames, mountains that, upon closer inspection, are just huge, apocalyptic piles of trash, forgotten machines, deleted memories. We had the wailing of giants in Sicario, here in the land of non-living where the air smells of nothing but rust, banshees scream directly at our faces. The intervals are filled with something even more nerve-racking: absolute fucking silence, even at the presence of Elvis Presley. Think about it, it really is the end of the world.

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