Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Theatre Notes: some trace of her

Traces of Dostoevsky's The Idiot, Emily Dickinson's poetry, of life and death, of theatre and cinema, of stillness and movement, of artificiality and physicality.
Traces of me trying to remember, to forget, to experience, to absorb.

I heard a fly buzz when I died;
The stillness round my form
Was like the stillness in the air
Between the heaves of storm.

Emily Dickinson circa 1861

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