Yesterday’s cross-Brooklyn internet outage meant no post here, but it also meant I was free to go see a matinee of the new Wuthering Heights with Carrie at the Film Forum. A synopsis: It’s raining outside, and IT’S RAINING INSIDE MY HEART. But… it’s worth watching just for the stark beauty of the moors (which are now on my list of things I must see in person, after “northern lights”, “southern cross”, and “fjords” and ahead of “Tokyo”).
Little by little the bird feathers its nest, and object by heart burnished object we surround ourselves with lovely necessities of memory and function. It is these things that make a silly Apartment a Home or a silly Wednesday an Occasion.
Whether my nest is an old farmhouse, a sixth floor tenement walk up, or a brownstone basement... whether I share it with family, vagabonds, women of heart and mind, or a little brown cat and a sweet ginger banjo, my principal joy is filling it with light and laughter (and corralling).
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