Corrrrrrrrrrrr blimey, Ingmar Bergman died. It was a combination of IB and The Bicycle Thief that got me more involved with film in college, that made me realize I could be. Which sounds awfully IB. And obvious.

I shall be faithful for at least seven eternities of pleasure, eighteen false smiles, and fifty-seven tender whisperings without meaning. I shall remain faithful until the great yawn do us part. In short, I shall remain faithful in my own way.