It doesn't matter how successful you are, or how many times you have
dyed your hair purple and walked out onto the stage of a local folk
festival holding a note book and a banjolele. It makes no odds how
many pairs of boots you own, or sex you have had with strangers.
It doesn't even matter how many times you have scooped up the
smashed up porridge of your heart and poured it back into the jelly
mould of your ribs.
What matters is that we keep moving forward, despite ourselves,
despite everyone else... that we remember that life is not a hamster
wheel but an ocean, a road, a dirt track; or whatever crap metaphor
you can think of which basically says: grow up and up and up and up.
Get old with hunger, don't cling onto what was and starve.
Show Me Life is all about that. It peers into dark corners of sexuality
and strolls along Italian city streets. It free-falls into love and then tests
that love over and over. It gets sad and thoughtful, pregnant and angry
and then splinters into a billion pieces and becomes something quite
different. Something with a lot more to lose.
