All the night's participants had been having life struggles with work and sleep and study and not getting enough of one or too much of the other and the general lassitude and wear that has accrued like a ships barnacles around your bow a few weeks into your journey through the winter...
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We have left the bunkers, fuelled up, and are to the savannah, to free roam for a time. The original forest is in the distance, Varosha Resort out there somewhere.
These places are a nexus of fragments and scattered remains. With its strange grasslands and nebulous island in-worlds, and nestled between savage and savant, the savannah is the ideal human environment. The fable bridges a gentle way across.
M. L. Darling intends this space as an opportunity to follow the veins of fable across a landscape with a simian commitment to an aesthetic of evolutionary dreaming.
Jack: Did you hear that? David: I heard that. Jack: What was it? David: Could be a lot of things. Jack: Yeah? David: A coyote. Jack: There aren't any coyotes in England. David: The Hound of the Baskervilles? Jack: Pecos Bill. David: Heathcliff. Jack: Heathcliff didn't howl! David: No, but he was on the Moores.
2 comments:
Avast ye!
Great pome Mad Plumber
Word Verification: rumingi
Jack: Did you hear that?
David: I heard that.
Jack: What was it?
David: Could be a lot of things.
Jack: Yeah?
David: A coyote.
Jack: There aren't any coyotes in England.
David: The Hound of the Baskervilles?
Jack: Pecos Bill.
David: Heathcliff.
Jack: Heathcliff didn't howl!
David: No, but he was on the Moores.
John Landis (American Werewolf In London)
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