took nearly seventy takes over five days.
I watched this film with my three young sons. Two
fell asleep and the youngest one cried
the next day: “Sniffles died and we watched that scary
movie.” (We had just put our eighteen-year-old dog
down, so I suppose it was not good timing).
I just wanted to share my childhood.
I came of age reading True Crime and Horror.
My children and I read tales from the Brothers Grimm:
all violent and no happy endings.
Hansel is cooked in the oven. The eyes of Cinderella’s
stepsisters are plucked out by crows. Even
“The Happy Prince” by Oscar Wilde
begins in sadness and ends in heartbreak.
Tragedy sticks, lingers.
I would much rather die on a stone slab
at Stonehenge than marry a prince. I am not sentimental.