July 20th 2014

Filmwise: Revisions of the ninth draft of the little girl in Baghdad story are complete.

With the office taking over the working week, predictably all things creative are assigned to the weekend – along with the laundry, and the sorting of those books that have been hogging the kitchen floor ever since they had to be moved from the staircase to allow for the building of a bookcase. The latter is now in place. It needs the books to complete its raison d’être.

This Saturday, no creative assignments could be referenced in order to escape the said books.

And so, like every self-respecting Londoner on the happier of the two days off, with a whole 48 hours of freedom stretching before one’s eyes all the way to, what one optimistically believes will be, a ticked off list of many many achievements over the weekend, I made myself a cup of coffee.

The hot beverage found me picking up an old copy of a book  of poetry from the 1960s. Three poems read aloud later, I was looking up more poets and anthologies in the pile of books.

Then there was an Arabic translation of the memoirs of an anti-Fascists fighter which drew me into its colourful depiction of the unfolding Spanish civil war.

And just like that, it was 18:00.

Next stop, the local picture house.

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (Dir. Matt Reeves, 2014) was good, with solid performances from the men and women beneath the CGI suits, but the most rewarding element in the production was the soundtrack by Michael Giacchion.

Won’t bore you with Sunday; suffice to say, the books continue their kitchen occupation, and I am x number of pages more read than Friday evening.

Peace and love,

Ja’far

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