Interpretação de O Assassinato de Jesse James Pelo Covarde Robert Ford

Resolvi escrever algo no estilo do filme, nada disso acontece de fato, e nem acho que enquadra bem os personagens, mas o estilo do filme que é lento. A ideia é isso ser lido com voz de narrador melancolico e bem pausado. Não ta nada de mais mas ta escrito.
Jesse stood atop the hill gazing towards the house, but not directly at it. To far to distinguish if any one was there. It crossed his mind what it would of been like to be there, looking back at the hill, the figure at the end of the road coming closser, slowly, steadily, would he know if it was him, the legend, the man, both in one, or none at all, simply a monster or something that merits not a name. He paused in his path and breathed. He breathed again. He breathed a third time and wondered if the fourth would be soon to follow. As it came and as it went the fith was right around the corner. The sixth filed his lungs and yet he did not feel it, as if he leeked, and kept nothing to absorb. The seventh breath was not as empty, and a sharp pain was felt at the side of his chest. He hoped the eight would not be as eventful, and it was not. Nor the ninth, nor the tenth. At the eleventh he finaly came to the realisation of the instance. As the amount of breaths matched to the numbers of the clock he new. He heard a cock and nothing more. No breaths were to follow.