One Night for One Drop is a unique Cirque performance which occurred this past weekend. You can see the performance online with a $5 donation to One Drop, celebrating World Water Day and donations providing water access to those in need. The $5 price of admission is certainly a helluva lot cheaper than the $100+ required to see any of these shows live ;)
Some evidence of the bibliophilia shown in the film Whisper of the Heart.
De Humani Corporis Fabrica. after Vesalius I know the names of almost nothing not the bone between my elbow and my wrist that sometimes aches from breaking years ago and not the plumb line from the pelvis to the knee less ache than hum where in my nineteenth year a blade slit through nerves and nicked a vein leaving the walls intact the valves still working so the blood kept flooding out till Eleanor a nurse on evening shift opened the wound and made me whole again I have no words for chambers in the heart the smaller bones the seat of gravity or else I know the names but not the function: ganglia the mental foramen the hypothalamus the duodenum Once in our old school library I took a book down from the shelf and opened it to stripped flesh and the cords of muscles ribbed and charred like something barbecued the colours wrong the single eye exposed a window into primal emptiness I sat for hours amazed and horrified as if I had been asked to paraphrase this body with the body I possesed: hydraulics for a soul cheese-wire for nerves a ruff of butcher’s meat in place of thought I’ve read how Michaelangelo would buy a stolen corpse to study in the dark the movement of a joint or how a face articulates the workings of the heart how Stubbs would peel the cold hide from a horse and peer into the dark machinery of savage grace but I have never learned nor wished to learn how bodies work other than when they move and breathe corporis fabrica is less to me than how a shudder starts and runs along the arm towards the wings that flex and curl between the shoulder blades - so I will lie beside you here unnamed until my hands recover from your skin a history of tides a flock of birds the love that answers love when bodies meet and map themselves anew cell after cell touch after glancing touch the living flesh revealing and erasing what it knows on secret charts of watermark and vellum.