ill fend off our dystopian, AI-curated future? As far as cinema goes, it will probably be filmmakers so inimitably idiosyncratic and human that the machines just can’t
My Therapist Died
I WAS 25 YEARS OLD, SITTING CROSS-LEGGED ON A COUCH, UNABLE TO STOP my foot from wagging. My new therapist sat ten feet across from me, his middle-aged girth swallowed up in a high-backed leather chair, masculine: thick wrists, the wide beige band of
