When we met I told you cinema is a lie. Motion is a lie, light is a lie, voices are lies. You never saw a strip of film and you said you’d never care to. I was fine with that. I said, for every second of film 24 frames pass in front of the light, are swallowed by light. We see the same image twice. The projector makes a clicking noise because a shutter on the lens opens and closes. Light is there and then light is taken away. It’s what creates the illusion of movement. You said the cinema was a waste of time, that you preferred the theater and its warm bodies. I was fine with that. We don’t all need to love the same things. We’re different people you and I. You say you love the things that are true. Deep down, I know I loved your lies. It’s why we lasted as long as we did. It’s why I thought you were better than a movie.