We only call our friends if we need something from them, if they have successful business ventures, we want to partner with them. When they are buying drinks at the club, we want to feel the burn of whiskey on our tongues. And when shit hits the fan? Our silence is conspicuous. It's a cold world, isn't it?
...when the people who have devoted their lives to entertain, inform and keep us alive eventually end up lying helplessly like spent like cartridges of a revolution, someone needs to lift them up the same way they lifted our spirits when we were low and warm their hearts the same way they warmed ours with their craft. When the curtains close in on them and they leave the stage, who will remember them?