The meaning of corn flakes:

Arturo: “Self-help books. Fucken magazines. Television. Let me tell you about the vapid media streaming at you with the same  quiet desperation as breakfast cereal.”

Bandini: “Go ahead. It’s morning somewhere.”

7942630658_109a227e80_cArturo: “Did you get it all this morning? What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? It all! IT ALL? The years, and years, and years… Years of paying off the bond for a house your children left mockingly silent when they bailed, but not before  having driven you demented with their screaming for half your life. Or perhaps it means that intimate other whose mouth never stopped moving and who’s always looked like some strange silent movie for as long as you can remember. Or the colleagues at work who say the same fucking thing to you, every morning you clock in. Do you know Bandini, there’s one man in the office who calls me Tony. Fuck it Bandini. My name only has  two syllables. How difficult can that be to remember?”

Bandini: “Snap. Crackle and pop, Turo.”

Arturo: “Jesus Bandini. Don’t you ever want more?”

Bandini: “Some days, Turo. Some days. But other times, finding a shopping trolley that doesn’t pull too much to the left, or to the right, is all I really need.”


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