An Edit a Day ⚜ Benedict Cumberbatch ⚜ [191/?]
Tonight at 9/8c on GREAT PERFORMANCES l PBS: theater legends celebrate The National Theatre London. Preview a scene from “Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead” with none other than Sherlock’s Benedict Cumberbatch.
I absolutely love Tom Stoppard’s “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead”. And I would have loved to see Benedict in this (whole) role.
you can see her accent
…and it makes me melt.
i am so in love with her
Tilda Swinton risked arrest waving a rainbow flag in front of the Kremlin in violation of Russia’s new homosexual propaganda bill. And she wants everyone who can to reblog it in solidarity.
Guys please reblog this, it won’t ruin your blog, this is important
Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope and that enables you to laugh at life’s realities.
Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?
We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.
They can keep their heaven. When I die, I’d sooner go to Middle-Earth.