On The Whale
You watch the television, set between two rain-swept windows, in a spacious yet cosy sitting room from which you also earn your living marking essays in a virtual classroom; you never leave it, you eat, read, can write, can afford to do nothing else; no neighbours; every so often, Sadie Sink comes to visit you, and you are going to die at any moment: despite the way the ending is filmed (childish in the worst sense of the word), watching The Whale was, above all, the pleasure of allowing myself to step into a fantasy.