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Bulldog | Nathalie Sallegren X Echoes and Edges - Open Collab

Posted by Gnattie on August 08, 2020

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Miss Jane

Let me begin by first apologising to my Grade 11 & 12 Lit teacher (can’t remember her name), most of my uni lecturers, myself, my parents and Jane Eyre. At the time I was not ready to read too substantially in to a rich collection of “L”iterature en masse. I was dealing with shit that does not need to be expressed in detail here and managed what I could. Though Jane Eyre never let ‘shit’ get on top of her and for that I am truly grateful to Charlotte Bronté for giving me the opportunity to experience knowing her. Now, years later, I am ready to re-address & immerse myself in some key works and lavish them, appreciate, and consider them in the good stead in which they deserve. Having said that, this analysis is brief and produced without wider reading. I just felt so affected after reading I needed to produce my thoughts. Here they are: Image from: https://prismaticjaneeyre.org Jane Eyre is now firmly placed in my heart forever though I do still have one questio...

Thought criminal

My little review of 1984 by George Orwell As I attempt to hurdle over my short attention span & address 1984, again in my mid-life I find myself quite naturally soaking in all of the dreary yet tense atmosphere throughout the novel. Unavoidably approaching it as a Gen X-er, one could not escape the references to 1984 throughout my life as we delve further into a world of homogeneity & behavioural tracing & tracking through technology and through this, one could forever place ourselves parallel to Orwell’s uncanny ability to foresee what would become of us. I won’t dwell on those issues which seem obvious and apparent but merely comment on what stood out to me and we’ll see what might resemble or not. http://www.milwaukeeindependent.com/ What I found to be striking in Orwell’s account of an intrusive future lead by the ideal of Big Brother is the fact that Orwell created concepts such as: Thought police: whereby through watching a proletariat’s (citizen work...

It's the small things.. the heat and the cold, however are not so small.

What’s funny are the moments you take for granted. Like the sun that’s too hot and gives you no respite. You’re so dry but you sweat anyway and when you turn your head to the side to escape it, the scorch of the heat strikes you on the side of the face and neck. The only way you can win is to lift your face directly towards the sun, with your eyes closed and challenge it, like your demons. “C’mon then”, you whisper through gritted teeth. When you sit in your car, which has been parked in the heat the whole day and the lino burns the backs of your thighs. Ironically, your thighs are bare because it’s too hot to wear long pants. When you can’t touch the steering wheel with the flat of your hands, so you sacrifice the inner skin of your less dominant fingers, because you forgot to put the protective reflective cover over the steering wheel. Dry Todd River bed. Image nicked from www.averylongjourney.co.uk Nothing burns like the discomfort of extremes. Before I left, I sat i...

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