
… he was a basket full of different kinds of strange (James S. A. Corey).
You've got to dig to dig it, you dig?

A garden offers the opposite of the disembodied uncertainties of writing.
[…]
In an age of lies and illusions, the garden is one way to ground yourself in the realm of the processes of growth and the passage of time, the rules of physics, meteorology, hydrology, and biology, and the realms of the senses.
Rebecca Solnit, Orwell’s Roses

Colm Tóibín on Parallel Mothers, by Pedro Almodóvar. I will implement and attend my own Almodóvar festival soon. Anthony Lane‘s review.
