Those Blurry People
Autistic alienation in a reopening world.
I’m sitting on a crate in a big warehouse filled with bodies, and I can’t seem to process anyone’s face.
My mask is pulled up high on my nose, with my glasses perched over the seam of the fabric, blocking the cloud of my breath. It’s the middle of the day, the very start of the film festival, and the warehouse is flooded with light…