speaking so gratefully, it’d been the nastiest little blessing & sweetest of curses to have noticed how this would play out from the very pilot. i only mention it as, whilst ever-careful in measured depth, their freudian inclusion felt of literary faultlessness; to me it was the little clueing key to themes this entire series spun on. with detail given to every parental pairing of weight, each were paid such dues. i’d resent then turning to sully their efforts by reducing this extensive thoughtfulness to a mere recent hinting. particularly given this eighth execution, in a finality both painful and gorgeous. genuinely i’d near swear it a theban play lost from between oedipus and antigone adapted à la 10 things i hate about you.