![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Update on the tooth situation, the last surgery yesterday went well, and although today I feel like someone punched me in the mouth, according to the dentist I'm slowly recovering. I have a final check-up by the end of July, and then it should be over. At least I can eat anything I want, and only have to apply that disgusting cream for another week. I'm not feeling very well, mostly because I couldn't sleep last night, so I rescheduled everything I had to do to tomorrow, took some painkillers, and spent the morning cuddling with Sakura on the couch and reading on my Kindle.
For the "A Book Written By Someone Under Thirty" square I chose Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn. Published in 1968, he wrote it in his twenties, a fact that still leaves me astonished. I'd already read it years ago, in the Italian translation, because the 1982 movie was one of my favourites as a kid, and a huge influence on me growing up. The movie is very faithful to the book, but nothing could prepare me for its beautiful prose. It's one of those rare books that made me feel like highlighting my favourite passages, and there were so many. Every word is carefully chosen, every image is just so beautiful and real it's sometimes even painful.
“The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea.”
“Only to a magician is the world forever fluid, infinitely mutable and eternally new. Only he knows the secret of change, only he knows truly that all things are crouched in eagerness to become something else, and it is from this universal tension that he draws his power.”
“For a moment she turned in a circle, staring at her hands, which she held high and useless, close to her breast. She bobbed and shambled like an ape doing a trick, and her face was the silly, bewildered face of a joker's victim. And yet she could make no move that was not beautiful. Her trapped terror was more lovely than any joy that Molly had ever seen, and that was the most terrible thing about it.”
“All around Molly there flowed and flowered a light as impossible as snow set afire, while thousands of cloven hooves sang by like cymbals. She stood very still, neither weeping nor laughing, for her joy was too great for her body to understand.”
And here's a link to the full movie, on YouTube. I'm so happy and grateful that I grew up with that movie, and that I can appreciate it all anew after reading the original text. ♥
For the "A Book Written By Someone Under Thirty" square I chose Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn. Published in 1968, he wrote it in his twenties, a fact that still leaves me astonished. I'd already read it years ago, in the Italian translation, because the 1982 movie was one of my favourites as a kid, and a huge influence on me growing up. The movie is very faithful to the book, but nothing could prepare me for its beautiful prose. It's one of those rare books that made me feel like highlighting my favourite passages, and there were so many. Every word is carefully chosen, every image is just so beautiful and real it's sometimes even painful.“The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea.”
“Only to a magician is the world forever fluid, infinitely mutable and eternally new. Only he knows the secret of change, only he knows truly that all things are crouched in eagerness to become something else, and it is from this universal tension that he draws his power.”
“For a moment she turned in a circle, staring at her hands, which she held high and useless, close to her breast. She bobbed and shambled like an ape doing a trick, and her face was the silly, bewildered face of a joker's victim. And yet she could make no move that was not beautiful. Her trapped terror was more lovely than any joy that Molly had ever seen, and that was the most terrible thing about it.”
“All around Molly there flowed and flowered a light as impossible as snow set afire, while thousands of cloven hooves sang by like cymbals. She stood very still, neither weeping nor laughing, for her joy was too great for her body to understand.”
And here's a link to the full movie, on YouTube. I'm so happy and grateful that I grew up with that movie, and that I can appreciate it all anew after reading the original text. ♥
