MARTIN HART, 36, in better shape and with darker hair, answers his front door. It opens onto RUSTIN COHLE, 31, smaller, handsome but hard-worn, his shirt and suit disheveled. Bleary-eyed and frightened, he stands on the porch with a cheap BOUQUET in hand.
His dark hair mussed, Rust shakily holds out the bouquet. His face - wet, red eyes, red nose.
This scene fucking killed me inside.
The Mars Volta, Frances The Mute 2005
Art by Storm Thorgerson
True detective confirmed how rad my chain smoking and exsistential depression was. If only I had mathew mcconaughey’s crazy eyes.
a metaphor of my life