ジョシュ・ブローリンのインスタグラム(joshbrolin) - 8月7日 05時02分


Now she died. And my mother too. And my other mother a day passed (who I’ll write about later), the one who raised me and taught me that there is a dangerous simpleton and an easy feral artist jester that lives in here and here too. They taught me that it’s not too manly to represent an idea when that idea isn’t hurting so many, killed, dead, bleeding. They taught me how animals will hurt you back only when they are scared or feel trapped, unless they are insane. She taught me. She didn’t eat her own, she nourished instead the masses even when the masses told her to “SHUT UP! You’re not worth listening to.”
We are all acting. Some imagine Clint Eastwood from the spaghetti westerns or John Wayne from “True Grit”, but once in a while, secretly, I see the grace, ma’am. Sometimes, Ma, just like you, I’ll stand for more than just being a leash of the ages on a front yard of tract housing on a street of blanched stupidity that kills its own. She’s the poet who reminded that the seeing see might even being be hoping hope reminding me. #riptinimorrison


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