“World War II records and anecdotal evidence show that many people from southern Louisiana were sent to France to serve as interpreters for other Americans. It is hard to underestimate the effect this had on many Cajuns, because this was the period in which the Louisiana public school system was attempting to eradicate the use of French among school-children, and the word Cajun came to be used by many as a synonym for backwards, illiterate swamp dwellers. Yet these southern Louisiana men were sent to France because they were fluent in a language that could keep other soldiers alive and forge bonds with members of another country. Thus, the quality that made them “backwards” in their home state made them ambassadors in the country their ancestors called home.”—J. Daniel D’Oney, “Louisiana’s Old State Capitol Museum,” in Defining Memory, edited by Amy K. Levin (via swanjolras)
Cities are smells: Acre is the smell of iodine and spices. Haifa is the smell of pine and wrinkled sheets. Moscow is the smell of vodka on ice. Cairo is the smell of mango and ginger. Beirut is the smell of the sun, sea, smoke, and lemons. Paris is the smell of fresh bread, cheese, and derivations of enchantment. Damascus is the smell of jasmine and dried fruit. Tunis is the smell of night musk and salt. Rabat is the smell of henna, incense and honey. A city that cannot be known by its smell is unreliable. Exiles have a shared smell: the smell of longing for something else; a smell that remembers another smell. A painting, nostalgic that guides you, like a worn tourist map, to the smell of the original place. A smell is a memory and a setting sun. Sunset, here, is beauty rebuking the stranger.
But to love the sunset is not, as they say, one of the attributes of exile.
”—Mahmoud Darwish, In the Presence of Absence (via yesyes)
Like a regular library, but open 24 hours and there are bunk beds and things to sleep on, and all the books you can read, and a little booth that sells tea.
Just somewhere you could go if you have insomnia or are lonely in the middle of the night, or need somewhere to hang with friends after hours, or just want to be in a public space at night that’s not a bar or club.
Gotta say, both your and codenamecesare's breakdowns are splendid. Yes, poor writing and superb acting of Fassbender make a strange cocktail. It's a conflict between "aww tragic hero" and "why the heck is he a persuasive leader? He's a dreadful strategist/tactician". Granted, Charles' performance isn't that much better but he at least makes sure that his side don't get killed if avoidable.
Thank you! :D
It also occurs to me that XMFC robs their conflict of power (in addition to the terrible mangling of Erik’s backstory, what is Shaw, even). I’m not super-familiar with comics, but as far as I know a huge thing on which they disagreed was that Charles advocated martyring themselves in the name of saving people while actively being persecuted by them. This is not what happens in XMFC, where they are out to save the world (by extension themselves) from a nuclear war, and the conflict seems to be… Well, hypothetical, really. The world doesn’t know mutants exists and Charles in no way advocates martyrdom, quite the opposite: the way he lays it out he seems to be aiming for “we saved your from radiation, you owe us, but in our benevolence we will consider us equals” (not a great plan, but has some merit).
Erik’s master plan, on the other hand, seems to be “right, we stopped the madman from detonating the bombs, so I will now detonate the bombs because it will be totally different and then we will fight against the people who outnumber us a million to one, and who don’t know we exist yet, WHO IS WITH ME?”