I enter the dining room. There’s a gold cornucopia on the table. I think, what a wonderful seasonal flourish. But I know it’s dangerous. My ten relatives rush towards it, grabbing at the appetizers that are sprinkled around like land mines. I want to do the same, but I waver… early-eating is a deadly mistake.
I know we are freaking out about The Hunger Games trailer. But let’s talk about that hair for a minute.
THANK YOU. And the honeymoon phase ends.
DUH - every YA movie needs a bad wig.
Peeta, Paul & Mary. For Cindy.
This is my response to this NYT article.
"Still, it is hard not to mourn the decline of the literary tradition invented by Carroll and Barrie, for they also bridged generational divides. No other writers more fully entered the imaginative worlds of children — where danger is balanced by enchantment — and reproduced their magic on the page. In today’s stories, those safety zones are rapidly vanishing as adult anxieties edge out childhood fantasy."
Yes, that is Peeta Pan.