Friday, 15 May 2009

Literary Adaptation no. 1

Last night I dreamt I went to Hawker’s Pot again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me ... Nature had come into her own again and, little by little, in her stealthy, insidious way had encroached upon the drive with long, tenacious fingers. The jokes, always a menace even in the past, had triumphed in the end. They crowded, dark and uncontrolled, to the borders of the drive. The puns with white, naked limbs leant close to one another, their punchlines intermingled in a strange embrace ... And there were other witticisms as well, witticisms that I did not recognise, parodies and absurd theories that straggled cheek by jowl with the puns, and had thrust themselves out of the quiet earth, along with all sorts of other monstrous nonsense, none of which I remembered.

(from du Maurier: Rebecca)

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