Imagining there is gives comfort to my daughter who just lost her beloved Oliver, a handsome and loving German Shepherd who succumbed to cancer. On his 12th year of age, and diagnosed only a few weeks ago, Ollie seemed to be his usual determined self, loving the walks on the Atlanta Beltline a few blocks from where my daughter, her husband and their three German Shepherd dogs reside. His best was Ladybird.
Walter arranges to secretly meet with Phyllis at Jerry's Market. He describes to her how everything is falling apart - Keyes has figured it all out, has an expert witness, and is rejecting her accident claim. If she sues, facts about the first Mrs.
R un Lola Run could very well be the punchiest piece of concept art to ever hit the silver screen, a shock-dose of German existential cinema you can ride. Lola is a techno archangel who seeks to save boyfriend Manni Moritz Bleibtreu from himself. But Run Lola Run puts a wrench in this master plan.
Ah, such cruelty, dear Professor: a Surrealist parlour game? Is this still possible? Is this untimely masterpiece something, perhaps, to serve as a Japanese Pillow Book for future mutant cinephiles?
Audio: Listen to this story. To hear more feature stories, download the Audm app for your iPhone. Last week I returned to Amherst.
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Always trying to kiss them, always coming up behind them during a merengue, the first nigger to learn the perrito and the one who danced it every chance he got. During the parties—and there were many, many parties in those long-ago seventies days, before Washington Heights was Washington Heights, before the Bergenline became a straight shot of Spanish for almost a hundred blocks—some drunk relative inevitably pushed Oscar onto some little girl, and then everyone would howl as boy and girl approximated the hip-motism of the adults. The threesome lasted only a week.
I was desperately searching for a medicine syringe to give my three-year-old a dose of Benadryl. He was screaming due to an ant bite that caused an allergic reaction. Homework papers were scattered on the table.
Oh my. This season has become less of a commentary on girls, these or otherwise, and more of a ritualistic humiliation that has zapped one character off of the map completely please come back, Jessa, please! Or something.