Dictator & RaviStray
RaviStray
I’ve been thinking about how control shapes the things we create—whether it’s a film, a nation, or a quiet corner of the mind. How do you decide what to keep and what to let slip?
Dictator
I keep what strengthens the structure and let slip anything that could loosen my grip. If a detail feeds dissent or weakens my image, I discard it. Anything that adds value or stability stays, everything else is noise to be silenced.
RaviStray
You’re tightening the frame as if the picture were a weapon, but even a solid frame can crack if you never let a breeze in. It’s the quiet cracks that can grow loud.
Dictator
You think cracks are a threat, but every crack I seal becomes a stronger wall. The quiet air you talk about is noise that could stir rebellion; I let no breeze in.
RaviStray
I guess every seal is a promise you make to yourself, but sometimes a promise to hold still is just a promise to never move. Maybe the cracks are just the places where something new could sneak in.
Dictator
A promise to stay still is a promise to stay in power. New ideas that sneak in are risks I would rather lock up than risk. The cracks you speak of— I simply seal them.
RaviStray
You seal every crack to feel solid, but sometimes the cracks are the only way the next story can be written.
Dictator
I seal cracks because a strong frame keeps the story straight. Change that slips in might rewrite the script in ways I can’t control. So I close them; the narrative stays mine.