My touristy snap of St. Paul's a few months ago, for the Monty Python retrospective. Lord Nelson is lying about 380 feet below the cross, which is probably as nice as it gets if one has to be in a box for eternity. He came back from Trafalgar packed and pickled in a cask so he wouldn't rot, so the box isn't very big.
The past few weeks have been really crap at the cinema, with one exception.
Blade Trinity
Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events
Life Aquatic with Steve Zizzu
Meet the Fuckers
Ocean's 11-5/8
Million Dollar Baby
The saving grace of Lemony is the set design; there are several houses were I'd like to live. The characters live in a world where time and space are skewed, which mimics my feelings for the real world sometimes. I'd label this film as reasonably comfortable, with a medium squirm factor, and the popcorn was decent.
The exception was Million Dollar Baby, which was an example of nice craftsmanship. I generally feel this way about Eastwood films, that they are solid plot-driven stories which entertain. This one was helped by having three of my favorites in the lead roles. The Freeman / Swank / Eastwood combination is a pleasure to watch. A nice drama, especially if one owns stock in Kimberly-Clark.
I cried at the end of Ocean's 11-5/8; I really felt bad for the actors and actresses.
Lost in Translation was Murray on a good day, and one should see him as Steve Zizzu to understand the difference. I do enjoy seeing Anjelica Huston posing on sets with aquatic themes, so it wasn't a total waste of time.
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A few days ago I was standing near Hackescher Markt, waiting for my tram. There was a really big cloud in the sky, pale grey, lit up by the lights of the city. When I looked up there, a swarm of birds got up into the sky. The birds looked just like black shadows on the grey cloud. It was a magic moment.