Just can’t get enough.
In a city full of gods and full of thugs.
This girl can buzz.
"And why, too, on waking up and fully returning to reality do you feel almost every time, and sometimes with extraordinary intensity, that you have left something unexplained behind with the dream? You laugh at the absurdities of your dream, and at the same time you feel that interwoven with those absurdities some thought lies hidden, and a thought that is real, something belonging to your actual life, something that exists and has always existed in your heart. Its as though something new, prophetic, that you were awaiting has been told to you in your dream. Your impression is vivid, it may be joyful or agonizing but what it is and what was said to you you cannot understand or recall."
Dostoyevsky, The Idiot, p. 423-4
CTPWR
Wildbirds & Peacedrums. Soundtrack for the rapture.
Just saw Louis Malle’s absorbing and disarmingly light-hearted Murmur of the Heart (Le Souffle au Cœur). I fell in love with both the poetic, conflicted, not-quite-15-year-old Laurent and his unbelievably beautiful and free-spirited Italian mother, Clara.
I was only slightly distracted by the uncanny resemblance of Laurent to Charlie Bucket.
