Went to Paris, in September,
a few years ago...it was warm,
and awfully sunny, and pretty
much a dream come true.
Everything you might
want Paris is to be.
I fell in love with the cobblestones
and the blues. Suppose you could
say Paris is where I learned to love
Like I said.
a book that is highly
recommended by Joan,
"We didn’t confess,
we weren’t looking for a piece of eternity, but
it was a moment of communion between us,
of textual absolution, a return to the only
paradise that matters: intimacy.
Without realizing it, we were discovering
one of the crucial functions of storytelling
and, more broadly speaking, of art in general,
which is to offer a respite from human struggle.
Love wore a new skin.
And it was free."
Labels: The Rights of the Reader
Will save you from the six-page essay I'd like to write right now about why this feels like home.
Suffice it to say that my family (see: Maine foxes, below) lived in Germany for the first half of the seventies. And Ravensburger (above) was an integral part of everything.
This morning, while taking note (again) of the brilliant eye of Paul K. (creator of sumptuous BibliOdyssey), saw that he has linked to a German illustrator (Patrick Wirbeleit) whom I can't wait to find out more about.
And, thankfully, Patrick has, also, a sweet blog. With Ravensburger milch cows und a barn and a field and a house and... Goodbye. I am off to check out Illuopa. Guten Tag and all that (yep. I took German I & II about six times. Would that I were a linguist, but I, sadly, am not).
with the choice of your chair
"'...the chair was created for use in the weather forecasting room on a battleship,' and notes that it 'was supplied to bars and brasseries by breweries in exchange for selling their beer.'" read more? here and here. buy it? here. hey. what's not to love, with this history? okay. thank you. we'll take six. or eight. Please.