exponentiation ezine: issue [6.0: culture]
Music
Artist: Steve Roach
Album: Midnight Moon
Release: Projekt Records (2000)
Midnight Moon, being the partial break-off from the otherwise so common New Age- themes sparked by this artist, is a gloomy dark record of ambient spheres and full moons.
Slow, gazing layers of insomnia define these ambient stages of both earthly and unearthly existence. Co-working with occasional glimpses of fretless bass and bows, this listening experience is full of life, full of night. Where many ambient works achieve full effect from the beginning of the songs, Steve Roach's "Midnight Moon" is the complete opposite to this. By slowly emerging one layer, and letting that define the basic theme of the song, he then breaks in more layers as the maturity of the comprehension of each fragmented idea moves ahead, hence the lengths of each piece.
What characterizes this work, is not so much the clearness of vision and impact of intentional motive, but the strong sense of something lively wanting to break free from the calmness, yet keeping itself in shape and order by the space and time allowed to play. This is most times felt when the processed guitar makes its appearances to enhance and provoke a certain mood within an already established general feeling or atmosphere. It's obvious where Steve Roach hints on this, and so he admittedly does very well.
Surprising to many, the overall technique used on this album is that of drone, yet, the music in many ways does not convey an experience like that of drone masters such as Lustmord or Maeror Tri. On the contrary, "Midnight Moon" safely accelerates within frames common to the ambient artists that instead of presenting an immersive illusion through the subconscious, aims on that which to the mind is known, felt, perhaps experienced many lifetimes before. Listening to this work does in most cases not baffle or surprise, but instead play on things familiar with emotions induced at solitary moments of peace and inner harmony, and as such, the vision is always clear and honest, while still keeping its integrity of wondrous space travels intact.
The atmosphere is dark and wondering, contemplating over its own soul. The nature of this music can best be described as repetitive, but like artists of a similar musical standpoint such as Ildjarn or Beherit, this in no way intrudes on a hope for something profound and beautiful. Steve Roach drags each piece out until there is no beginning or end, until each ongoing melody and droning layer becomes relevant in itself to the larger picture of the whole presented. Through the constant recycle of slowly vibrating dark ambient layers, magical guitar melodies defined by five or six notes taken to their extreme lengths and the continuing echoes of these moments combined, something wondrous, longing and seeking takes shape.
Indecisive, yet only to its benefit, as these special times of midnight moons are as taking long walks through a dead and sleeping city where the stars shine bright on the majestic nightsky; there is no disturbance -- only a clear sense of that which is unknown, but felt years ago. This paradox never makes itself a disturbance while listening to this ambient-tribal opus, as it becomes a natural part of its own creation, e.g. it wants to seek and find something unknown while alone with the memories of the past.
But while these strange sounds and feelings are obvious to any listener, the actual content or theme present in each piece, is that of timeless, spaceless experiences. "Ancestors Circle" and "Deadwood" are songs that define this idea, and whereas other parts of this dark ambient work are both lucid and hallucinating, wisdom of souls now dead and gone come back to life, yet, only inside the mind of he who is willing to listen and trust the soul of his intuitional voice.
Almost disturbingly unknowing, Steve Roach on this album presents what should be his most worthy opus to date. The absolutely beautiful and entrancing visions produced as a result of tiny magical melodies and out-of-space ethereal key layers, send the listener, either deeply out of space or shortly into the mind of things that previously were dead and waiting. Haunting and encompassing a worldview beyond the current materialistic acknowledgements of those with ignorance and betrayal of the past wisdom gained, nothing can save this work from being a welcome experience a looming evening of afterglow wonder. - Alexis
Artist: V/A
Album: "Looking for Europe: The Neofolk Compendium"
Release: Auerbach Tontr„ger (2005)
"Neofolk" has always been a genre plagued, or possibly injected with, a certain underpinning of ambiguity, be it musically, in imagery, in attitude, and/or ideologically. It is ostensibly the goal of the "Looking for Europe" compilation to help provide - or maybe obscure, depending upon your perspective - the meaning of Neofolk as a genre, and to give ample historical context to its development and relevance. According to the tastefully presented, 100-page bilingual (Deutsch/English) perfect bound book included as the centerpiece of this tome-like package, Neofolk is "defined more aptly in [such] thematic commonalities than in a common musical language." This statement makes sense when one considers what is often classified as Neofolk: everything from traditional acoustic-folkish acts (the most oft-cited type), industrial, gothic, noise, synthpop, classical, and ambient influenced creations, and a myriad of other styles and hybridizations. Most, if not all, of these are represented in some guise on this massive 4 CD, 53-song volume.
The included text goes on to define the "thematic commonalities" as "romantic, 'anti-enlightenment,' [with] and explicit demand to again make room for a mythical worldview in this modern world," which appears accurate upon examination of the booklet; perhaps more famous to the uninitiated, though, is the (crypto-) fascistic imagery that some of the more established and recognizable bands such as DEATH IN JUNE and DER BLUTHARSCH have often used. Unfortunately for the "genre" as a whole, though not unexpectedly, this fact has managed to overshadow many of the deeper currents expressed in Neofolk worth exploring, such as traditionalism (Julius Evola seems to be one particularly admired figure) including paganism/heathenism and other pre-Christian themes. Many other themes are also common, ranging from the extremely esoteric to the frivolous; at their core, these themes are oft of introspective and ascetic-type principles or pursuits; highly "intellectualized," literate, and studied presentation of mythological, are most celebrated. These themes tend to be mirrored in this regard fairly consistently by the corresponding musical presentation despite some of the above-mentioned attempts at more martial overtones, which are often understated. An interesting, and somewhat related, side note to this is that females are relatively well-represented for an "underground" genre of music, often in highly vocal or creative roles. This also seems to be a reason for much of the aesthetic and musical variety flourishing beneath the broad Neofolk canopy.
The music on "Looking for Europe" is, thanks to such distinct variety of presentation, aurally interesting and aesthetically appealing. Most compositions can be described as melodically driven and focused, with a plentitude of instruments (both traditional and modern) and - principally - voice, used to color them, depending on the act. In the more folkish acts, as would be expected, percussion is often eschewed wholly or reduced to mere accent, in favor of more open, simple homophonic style working under its own momentum. This includes SOL INVICTUS, FIRE+ICE, CHANGES (a remnant of an era before "Neofolk" was completely germinated), and some inspirational precursors given tribute with tracks on Disc 1 such as SCOTT WALKER or THE STRAWBS. Opposite on the spectrum is the school influenced more by industrial/noise and synthpop, where percussion rises to the forefront as pulsing ambience or in militaristic rigidity (including marching snare or tribal drums). This approach is utilized by the above-mentioned DER BLUTHARSCH, and can probably be seen as a page from the books of early industrial/noise acts NON or PSYCHIC TV, both of whom also show up on this compilation as widely-recognized influences. In an approach bridging these percussive styles, DEATH IN JUNE betrays their earlier post-punk influence in their included track (from "The Brown Book"), which uses a modern drum kit configuration to offset a gentle acoustically-strummed melody in repetition.
Other acts forge paths that cannot be described neatly by the above dichotomy; often these are some of the most musically and artistically interesting. These acts often borrow heavily from a number of traditions, creating what at first seems tragically recombinant stylistically, but surviving on pure breadth of experience. BLOOD AXIS is the most prominent example, an act that has successfully pursued ambient, folk/traditional, electronic, and others simultaneously while managing to avoid sounding like awkward piecemeal. Their unreleased track "The Ride," which appears on this compilation, is unfortunately not their best, but it is representative: martial rhythms, commanding vocals, pre-Christian themes and a great sense of musical movement. Although this sounds dangerously similar to the criticisms already leveled, it is assuredly better than that in the whole. Another standout band included on the compilation is SCIVIAS. More in the Eastern European folkish tradition, in their track SCIVIAS enlist the aid of a violin playing a sad countermelody over picked acoustic guitar, interspersed with gently-spoken lyrics and light marching snare to create a desperate and unique atmosphere.
Bands such as the aforementioned BLOOD AXIS and some others on this compilation fall under what could broadly be called "Neoclassical" as opposed to "Neofolk," which would better betray what is a more general array of influence. However, similar problems arise with the use of this marginalized term as well: it is not so much the specific musical approach, but overarching themes and threads of common tradition that are binding, no matter what they may be called. What the term does avoid, however, is the inevitable (and agreeable) contention among true folk-enthusiasts that the more folk-oriented of these bands represent, at best, a departure from the true folk tradition in all but some superficial ways. One might argue that such a tradition has been less relevant since the advent of recorded music, but this seems another strike against the heart of certain "Neofolk" types: for all their rallying behind tradition, some go a long way in unintentionally mocking it with some contrived music and image, always trying to sound "dark" in the mode of the more contemporary musics from which many of them have arrived, but managing to sound like diluted and soft rock-influenced music in the meantime. Some of this need not be bad in itself, but to settle on such a term as "Neofolk" for a style which clearly has little in common with "folk" seems like pandering, maybe an attempt to unite many disparate bands for the purposes of "scene," or at least simply a poor idea. This compilation does well in making it clear that the more aesthetically folk-influenced bands ("World Serpent" bands) do not (or do no longer) necessarily comprise the majority of what should be considered "Neofolk," which further begs the question of the need for such a term and the oddfellow pairings that come with it.
Semantic issues not withstanding, a few listens through the compilation and a leafing through of the booklet gives one the sense that as art, much of this, ironically, comes off as too inorganic to function well. There seems to be a pull from too many sides to bring all of it properly to fruition; it is not quite popular music, nor trained or traditional, nor something of universally grand intellectual standing, but not much of it seems to possess an obvious creative joy or spontaneity either. While it is tempting to like a lot of these acts on the basis of the combination of attractive thematics and palpably enjoyable music, it is equally tempting to brush all of it off altogether as too diverse in means and methods to wholly appreciate at a greater level. As a compilation, "Looking for Europe" serves its purpose well by making these difficulties clear in attempting somewhat clumsily to unite everything in a single large volume, though it seems the effect could be more alienating than was originally intended. -kontinual
Books
Title: "The Birth of Tragedy"
Author: Friedrich Nietzsche
Publisher: NuVision Publications (April 19, 2007)
Language: English
Endless amounts of philosophical analyses have been made about the Greek tragedy and why it came to be. Modern attempts have for the most part failed, as they've approached the works from a purely scientific realm, thus disregarding the inherent artistic qualities to masterpieces such as "King Oedipus" and "Medea." During a time when Germany saw geniuses like Wagner emerge from the depths of the darkest corners of German culture, a lonely romantic soul named Friedrich Nietzsche released a work called "The Birth of Tragedy."
Drawing influences from renown pessimist Arthur Schopenhauer, the astounding composers Richard Wagner, Ludwig van Beethoven, Johann Sebastian Bach, and of course the brilliant poets by the name of Friedrich Schiller and Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Nietzsche systematically builds up a philosophical-aesthetic manifesto to counter the modern materialistic soul. His focus is on the Greek culture and in specific the Greek tragedy, describing both its very origins and historical development up till the Greek comedies.
The basis for his assumptions is the balance between two different ways of artistically portraying life, symbolized by two Greek gods; Dionysus and Apollon. Dionysus being the fierce, uncontrollable, emotional god of wine and excess, and Apollon being the harmonic, curing, self-controlled god of reason and rationality, Nietzsche effectively connect these two deities to the basic two forms of art; music and poetry. Backed up by Schopenhauer's conception of "the world as will and representation," he claims that music is the highest abstraction in art since it portrays the will of life "objectively," while poetry (including painting and sculpturing) relies on representations of the will, thus concluding that music is the purest form of art as well as the foundation to the poetic art form.
Nietzsche affirms this by connecting music to Dionysus and dreaming poetry to Apollon, claiming that art is a balance between the two gods, even though Dionysus remains as its underlying force. He then applies this conception of art to the Greek tragedy and explains how the Greeks successfully managed to celebrate the most inner secrets of life, by worshipping tragedy, suffering and will power. Following the development of the Greek culture into the era of Socrates and his belief in human reason, Nietzsche sees a culture disintegrating from within due to the force of Apollon growing too strong and killing the tragic myths of Dionysus.
The despairing conclusion gradually evolves into an angry attack at modern religious belief in the virtues of science; the limits of rationality and causal logicality give birth to new myths within the scientific culture, which Nietzsche seems to be using as a proof of the power and inevitable presence of myth, at the same time declaring its universal legitimacy; the more we believe we "know" about life through science, the more we understand how little we actually know about life as a phenonemon. Without myth we lose our roots and fail to understand life as an organic process, instead - like the dissatisfied Faust - locking us into our study chambers to categorize life instead of living it.
As always, Nietzsche proves to be a provocative but enduring reading experience. While magnificently and with an admiring passionate defense of past wisdom, studying the Greek tragedy from an artist's perspective, "The Birth of Tragedy" leaves us with a remarkably sharp analysis of why our Western civilization is in decline, and like a sheep in a wolf's clothing, pointing its aim right at the very basics of philosophy and the metaphysics of existence. Controversial and problematic but at the same time promising and heroic, Nietzsche uncovers the secrets of the depths of art while dreaming of a new era where the tragic myth may be reborn and achieve a raging, idealistic artistic expression of the beauty that lies within the German folk soul. Irrevocable and uncompromising as ever, this is a must-read to understand myth and art in their mystic but proper context. - Alexis
Title: "American Gods"
Author: Neil Gaiman
Publisher: Harper Torch (2001)
"This is a bad place for Gods." America, it is posited, has forever made it difficult for the survival of the Old Ones of any tradition. The sprites, faeries, and leprechauns of the British Isles were incapable of crossing the pond with the simple country peasant folk and petty city criminals who came to the New World in search of new life or in indentured servitude. Where remnants of pagan heritage survived for the Northern European immigrants of the 19th century, America has leveled their memory to mere tales of fancy fit for children's stories. For those who continue to come, the demons of lore from their respective homelands are forced undercover, weakening as their demands for appeasement go increasingly unheralded. The old Gods, however, are far from dead, though many may believe it, or want it to be so, including the new Gods -- those Gods to whom Americans pay homage by toil and sacrifice so that they may be looked upon favorably by them: the Internet, Television, Media. There is no place for both, nor does either side wish there to be. What seems inevitable is a final conflict -- a Ragnarokian collision of Old and New to determine the fate of the otherworldly on this continent.
Neil Gaiman tells of this through the tale of Shadow, a mostly simple-minded jailbird who is released after serving a short time for a crime of violent passion. Almost immediately Shadow meets the mysterious Wednesday, becomes his gainful bodyguard after a quick series of incidents of personal tragedy, and finds himself entrenched in an escalating war between mythic past and ubiquitous, technological present. The caricatures of the New Gods are amusing and not without insight: the first encounter with a representative is with a fat, pimple-faced teenager swigging diet Coke in a fiber-optic illuminated limo; the thug agents have generic, interchangeable names like Mr. Town and Mr. Stone. On the other side are a series of entities from every conceivable background: Nordic, West African, Slavic -- with looks and mannerisms befitting of their legends, though nearly always modern and human in form. For even more divine subtext, tales of American settlers and their encounters with these Gods are interspersed with the story, all of which carry with them a sacrificial theme, which offsets the more light-hearted nature of the Gods presented in the main narrative.
Outside of these occasional forays, the plot moves quickly as Shadow and Wednesday work on securing the allegiances of Gods in various parts of the country as the war approaches. Gaiman spends a lot of time developing a thorough sense of place, which is integral to his assertions of the importance of it in American identity. Manifest Destiny, the Interstate system -- these are but two outward signs of the American desire to make subservient their geography which, unlike the Gods, at one time presented a concrete threat to American livelihood and, also unlike the Gods, have continued to receive blood sacrifice to the present day. So alluring are some places that they approach the Divine by their nature, and serve as the gathering places for the Gods in the story. An early meeting occurs at House on the Rock in Wisconsin, one of those places where unnamed inspiration possessed someone to build a monument to nothing-in-particular that inspires travelers to abandon the Interstate to find it, just because. Eventually, Shadow is stashed in Lakeside, Wisconsin, an idyllic Northwoods town in every imaginable conception. Again, the primacy of place in the story asserts itself; this is the town everyone in America wishes could exist everywhere: picturesque, close-knit, and for the most part immune to typical small town troubles.
For most of the book, Gaiman paints a picture somewhere this side of that ideal. Cheap motels, fast food joints, and the nameless towns and dirty cities along the highway are there still there for our contemplation, but we are constantly reminded of the presence of greater things around and among them. The divinities themselves work their magic throughout, their idiosyncrasies keeping the story amusing and enlightening. Indeed, this book is at its finest when their wisdom flows. There are many instances of well-played, everyday dialogue that reveal truth, as well as play on, sometimes too "cleverly," the mythological history of the Gods involved. There is a sense at one point of a thorough distaste for modernity, specifically American-styled modernity; later, a similar distaste for the Old multi-faceted Gods is apparent, the reaction one would expect from a detached, modern rendering of them as Gods of merciless bloodthirst and death. Unfortunately, the story falls apart as it nears resolution by having an identity crisis, drawing itself out far too long, and concluding ludicrously by pandering to cheap expectations of plot manipulation and gratuitous action. What had developed into a Shamanstic journey for Shadow at that point ends up becoming little more than post-script to the finale. Without the final 100 pages or so, this is still thoughtful commentary in pop-novel form, but even with the unsatisfying ending the idea that the Old Gods remain among us is a powerful one; we may only need to look more closely to realize it. - Kontinual
Cinema
Film: Threads
Dir: Mick Jackson
Release: BBC (1984)
This gritty movie was released in 1984 as a documentary movie, but for the sake of efficient and striking expression, it left out the talking heads and focused on communicating via aesthetics instead of gunning facts to the screen at a frenzied speed. Not obvious judging by the title, "Threads" aims to enlighten the viewer of the terrifying effects of a nuclear strike.
The movie begins with a view of Sheffield, a gray industrial town in England, and explains with a handful of words the two-edged sword of our complex societies: "In an urban society everything connects, each person's needs are fed by the skills of many others. Our lives are woven together in a fabric, but the connections that make society strong also make it vulnerable". Jimmy and Ruth, who are getting married soon, live in the city among their parents, and as such are one of the many building blocks of the society. Ruth is also expecting a child, and by the purchase of their home it appears the sun is finally shining over them, gracious rays flowing past the cracks in the dense wall of industrial smoke.
The background plot tells of a conflict between the US and the Soviet Union on Iranian ground, and as the result of this, tactical measures are taken by NATO and the Warsaw Pact in West and East Germany. There is a RAF base only 17 miles from Sheffield, so the city is highly prone to be caught in the blast if the base is attacked. The conflict escalates, and the population becomes increasingly anxious to fend for themselves under the nuclear shadow, stocking for provisions as recommended by the government, but it breaks out as looting and felonies by the panicked people. Soon, an open war bursts out, and the nukes are sent on their way. One detonates high over the North Sea, its EMP pulse knocking out electrical systems, stopping the now-constant broadcasts of public information; a few minutes after that, a missile salvo hits NATO targets, including a 150 kiloton warhead at the nearby RAF base. Finally, a one megaton nuke is detonated above Sheffield.
The nuclear exchange of 3000 megatons on overall between East and West, 210 megatons for UK alone, leaves the country a barren wasteland, decimating millions of people and razing cities with its sheer, unrelinquishing might. The war ceases, but the effects last for generations to come. All the threads that made the society function have now been severed with one brutally simple attack, and the nation is left crippled for a long time: casualties rise as the people who weren't lucky enough to get shelter from a cellar are exposed to the fallout, and radiation sickness takes its toll all around whether you were sheltered or not. Nuclear winter ensues from the billowing dust clouds blocking out the sun, and temperature drops down drastically. Fallout reaps the land, and bodies litter the wrecked streets, providing fertile ground for typhoid, dysentery and cholera epidemics.
Amongst the total ruin, some bonds of society are being resurrected, and attempts are being made to gather people able to work. Looters abound, of course, as the environment suits them fine, but harsh martial law catches some of them. Despite the hopes of reconstruction, there are still too many people left for the remaining food reserves to sustain, and so many perish due to this inescapable fact. Farming is continued, but it is found very difficult because of the lack of fertilizers and effective equipment. Eventually, though, the people manage to struggle through the tough times, albeit many succumb to the harsh winters. Only the strongest survive because the environment wouldn't will otherwise, and the population slowly rebuilds a cohesive society. Still, even though they managed to rise, the past still spreads its black wings over them: radiation contaminated the soil, poisoned the people, and thus left a permanent mark in the form of genetic mutations. Ruth managed to give birth to a healthy baby, but after Ruth died of cancer, her daughter gave birth to a dead baby due to a mutation, distortion in the genetic patterns.
In a way one could view a nuclear attack as purifying fire, as it would cut a population down and keep it from bloating by demolishing the necessities for upholding the modern society. In spite of the crash re-enabling humanity to flourish after the modern spiritual stagnation, its touch would forever plague the survivors, and being an even more undesirable course of action when one considers the irreversible damage to the environment, which is required for our sustenance. Thus, it is very doubtful that such a scenario could be regarded as a savior of any kind, even though it is capable of wiping out untold numbers of people, presenting a solution to the overpopulation problem.
The movie tells about the events and the aftermath of the explosion with coarse realism, slipping tidbits of information in-between the apocalyptic aesthetics. Using nuclear attack as an example disaster, it illuminates the factor that makes our society strong, but susceptible to harm at the same time. The many needs of our people are sated only by many material possibilities, and the web is thus a rather complex structure. Like a cobweb, it will collapse to a greater degree the further away from the center a thread is severed.
We are not immortal in our tower, as the construction is actually a prison we fortify and heighten every day, sealing ourselves from the green beneath. It provides safety from the beasts of the night, secluding us from the cold winds that roam the wilderness, but however awesome the tower may be, it is rooted to the very same earth that we are so afraid of - we are even nervously ridiculing the lowest levels of our precious tower -, and should the tower lose foundational support, it would collapse and greet the earth it so sought to escape. The higher the fortress towers, the more unstable it becomes, nearing the danger of losing its footing, and thus leaving the inhabitants in an environment that possibly cannot support their numbers, but takes its toll. - Frostwood
Film: All About Eve
Director: Joseph L. Mankiewicz
Release: 1950 (138 minutes)
An actress, Margo Channing (Bette Davis), who fears aging, is landed with a seemingly naive but kind admirer named Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter). The latter retells the tragic story of her earlier life, and Margo, who's tired of the falseness and hunger of the autograph hunters, takes her under her wing; Eve very soon becomes Margo's supporting handyman. Early on in the film, Margo's lover Bill Sampson (Gary Merrill) teaches what the theatre really is: it's everywhere, available to anyone. Something which, through the newcomer's anything but flattering intent, appears to be quite useful even outside the stage.
In the world of theatre and acting much is necessarily shallow. The ambition to "be someone" in society takes on an almost ontological character in this film, and toys with the metaphors of theatre to ask us what is real and what is mere surface. It seems as though the visible flaws in the long run can be completely irrelevant as long as the essence is of superior capacity. We're given an opposite in an orderly and modest person, whose "silent qualities" show a predator on her way up the career ladder. "It is just as false not to blow your horn at all as it is to blow it too loudly," says theatre critic Addison DeWitt (George Sanders).
The conclusion is transferred to theatrical terms: the true star is unchangeable and eternal (she doesn't get "old," after all), and possesses a charisma that attracts people. The Machiavellian carbon copy, on the contrary, hunts for prey and doesn't really become anything more than the autograph fiend she always was. "The career" of being human suddenly obtains a greater value, and when this is shown as a contrast to "this megalomaniac society," the film is given a slightly humanistic touch. This is nevertheless a pleasant idealism celebrating everything genuine, but it is perfectly balanced by the film's razor-sharp cynicism that gives us a much-needed look into the reality that is society.
The dialogue is not entirely believable, but that was hardly the point when making this; the theatrically emphasized lines are, more than anything, meant to be the medium of the brilliant writer and director Joseph Mankiewicz's ideas, which, in contrast, are eerily realistic. The casting is highly satisfactory, with one exception: Anne Baxter's acting is, especially at first, far from convincing. Only in part is her superficiality successful considering the theme of this film. Baxter's flaws are, however, solved by skipping the buzzed-about scenes that Eve is said to play so well. (These gaps would have been sensible no matter the quality of Baxter's performance, and on the whole, the film is full of this kind of clever solutions.) Apart from that, one could mention how the ending slightly exaggerates the theme even if the symbolism in the mirror is quite striking.
The film brings up the fear of losing status and gaining age, and is all in all most probably mainly a criticism of the American type of nearly neurotic ambition during the 1940s and 1950s, but when seeing it more than half a century later it has a more universal character. With Davis and Sanders as spearheads, "All About Eve" is an affrontingly entertaining journey through the psychology of a type of person who uses all her talents to take revenge upon the world that made her unable to love or be loved. Pretty soon one realizes that the relation between effort and reward must have taken on peculiar proportions when she crawls beneath the surface like an unconscious warning of serious clangers in human evolution. "It's funny, a woman's career. The things you drop on your way up so you can move faster," says Margo, as if she commented on the hurry of the whole of civilization, and with a sad face watched everything we drop on our way. -Ensittare
