Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?

Choose Life.
Choose a job.
Choose a career.
Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers.
Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance.
Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments.
Choose a starter home.
Choose your friends.
Choose leisurewear and matching luggage.
Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves.
Choose your future.
Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?




O Trainspotting tem tudo para ser o melhor filme do mundo.

Ver o Trainspotting é ter um punho enterrado no estômago, do princípio ao fim do filme. A banda sonora é suficiente para nos fazer entrar nos arredores de uma cidadezita qalquer na Escócia, com calças de ganga muito justas e corte de cabelo radical, a brutalidade das cenas, a mim, colocam-me ao lado deles, do Renton, do Sick Boy, do Tommy, do Spud e do Begbie (estes dois últimos são os maiores), numa casa em ruínas a tentar sair do lixo que a vida pode ser, quando não se tem razões e quando todas as escolhas são limitadas por ela, a Heroina.