I knew that the memory of those images, blows, expressions, sounds would have haunted me for days. I knew it, but there was nothing I could do, as usual: I didn't wanna watch, yet I had to watch. Violence here is something that hypnotizes you before even shocking you. And I found myself like a cartoon character facing a pendulum, with rolling eyes, spiral-shaped, taking in the whole show. As far as I am concerned the excess of violence here is like that of chili, after so many years I know it as a fact: I'll never get used to it. In the meanwhile I also realize that my friend I, gentle soul, seems to have taken it even worse than I did.
You have a happy new year...I'll have a drink to wash a foul sour taste my mouth.
As Cormac McCarthy says...no country for old men.
PS I could only publish this post like this, without a picture, coarse text on plain color background. Any other other image, shade or reference would have been unbearable.