must say this episode exceeded all my expectations. I'm in awe of the actors. The production is astounding. The battle looked eerily real that it gave me goosebumps. It was an emotional rollercoaster and up until now (at 4 PM), I still can't get over it. I just loved all of it. If there's movie orgasm, this just gave me plenty. There was so much to see that I do not know where to focus my eyes.
On Nov. 4, 1979, militants storm the U.S. embassy in Tehran, Iran, taking 66 American hostages. Amid the chaos, six Americans manage to slip away and find refuge with the Canadian ambassador. Knowing that it's just a matter of time before the refugees are found and likely executed, the U.S. government calls on extractor Tony Mendez (Ben Affleck) to rescue them. Mendez's plan is to pose as a Hollywood producer scouting locations in Iran and train the refugees to act as his "film" crew.
Over the years I've made my own private jokes. You can really read me. Do you want me to spell it out for you? I've certainly given myself a life sentence. Funny, right? I can't stand to look myself without being completely covered. Someday I may visit a surgeon, see what can be done to smooth me, but now I couldn't bear the reaction. Instead I drink so I don't think too much about what I've done to my body and so I don't do any more. Yet most of the time that I'm awake, I want to cut. Not small words either. Equivocate. Inarticulate. Duplicitous. At my hospital back in Illinois they would not approve of this craving.
For those who need a name, there's a gift basket of medical terms. All I know is that the cutting made me feel safe. It was proof. Thoughts and words, captured where I could see them and track them. The truth, stinging, on my skin, in a freakish shorthand. Tell me you're going to the doctor, and I'll want to cut worrisome on my arm. Say you've fallen in love and I buzz the outlines of tragic over my breast. I hadn't necessarily wanted to be cured. But I was out of places to write, slicing myself between my toes - bad, cry - like a junkie looking for one last vein. Vanish did it for me. I'd saved the neck, such a nice prime spot, for one final good cutting. Then I turned myself in.
Another gripping suspense courtesy of Gillian Flynn! As usual, she got to let her readers use their brains again. Like Gone Girl, Dark Place will keep you second-guessing until the last few chapters of the book.
Well, I did enjoy the movie and I think part of the reason I found a lot of stuff not into my liking was because I read the book before I watched the movie. Everything was still fresh in my memory so I kept comparing what was happening in the movie against what really happened in the book. I'm sorry. I'm not this much of a snub. I happen to like few books adapted into movie, such as Love Rosie, The Notebook and even A Walk to Remember.
On the good note, they did a good job in choosing the lead characters - Lara Jean and Peter Kavinsky. There was definitely a chemistry between the two. I just wished they gave more exposure to Josh because he deserved so much screen time. Non-readers would have a difficulty choosing between him and Peter if given the chance. I also think the movie was rushed, which I understand given the time frame it would probably be hard to include all the momentous scenes.
When I write, I hold nothing back. I write like he'll never read it. Because he never will. Every secret thought, every careful observation, everything I've saved up inside me, I put it all in the letter.
They're not for love letters in the strictest sense of the word. My letters are for when I don't want to be in love anymore. They're for goodbye. Because after I write letter, I'm no longer consumed by my all-consuming love. If love is like a possession, maybe my letters are like my exorcism. My letters set me free. Or at least they're supposed to.
Rosie and Alex have been best friends since they were 5, so they couldn't possibly be right for one another...or could they? When it comes to love, life and making the right choices, these two are their own worst enemies.