The oldest and most persistent archetypes gnaw at us. We whiskered and well fed citizens of the twenty-first century like to think ourselves beyond their grasp, but even the most modern of the post-modernists are no more than a couple of timid half steps removed from the hairy beast-man ancestor endeavoring to make sense of thunder and lightning. We are sojourners, and though we are as far up the mountain as the twenty-first century we are wearing the same scuffed boots with which we had been outfitted.

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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