For god’s sake, let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of kings

It is curious how often we accept the idea of an obvious fact and sprint past whatever assumption is informing us that of course this thing is true and scolding us no there is no need for proof or explanation. Like, why would JP Morgan look like a butcher in a Turkish bath? Or when Buendia stands in front of the firing squad, thinking of his father and the idea of ice, why do we see him lost in thought and in the splendor of his regalia? Will it always be the case that I will want to cry when the singer puts the guitar down at the end of Two-Headed Boy? Isn’t it obvious? Does it betray some deep need that I would think most everyone else would want to cry, too? Or some deep misunderstanding?