Nuggets and Aphorisms

Through my blue fingers, pink grains are falling, haphazard, random, a disorganised stream of silicone that seems pregnant with the possibility of every conceivable shape... but this is illusion.

Things have their shape in time, not space alone. Some marble blocks have statues within them, embedded in their future.

Dr Manhattan, in "Watchmen" by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons. I've been reading a lot of graphic novels recently, and have been amazed at the heights that some of them achieve. I was first sucked in by Art Spiegelman's "Maus," which I read astounded at the power and depth that could be contained within a single frame. Jai made me buy both parts of Moore's "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" during a visit to Delhi, and I especially loved Part II -- my favourite sequence is the one where Mr Hyde explains at a dinner table why he is so big and Dr Jekyll so small.

I'm currently reading my way through Frank Miller's "Sin City" and rediscovering Neil Gaimon's "Sandman," and it's a trip. I pick one of them up and I'm like a little boy lost in comic books. Maybe that isn't too far from the truth.

(A more detailed post on what I love about some of these books will follow later, when time permits.)