Writing is a haunting melody

Allan: That's quite a lovely Jackson Pollock, isn't it?
Meisje: Yes, it is.
Allan: What does it say to you?
Meisje: It restates the negativeness of the universe. The hideous lonely emptiness of existence. Nothingness. The predicament of man forced to live in a barren, godless eternity like a tiny flame flickering in an immense void with nothing but waste, horror, and degradation, forming a useless, bleak straitjacket in a black, absurd cosmos.
Allan: What are you doing Saturday night?
Meisje: Committing suicide.
Allan: What about Friday night?

(Uit: Play it again, Sam)