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[Robin Landseadel]

On Apr 17, 2009, at 9:08 AM, Kai Frederik Lorentzen wrote:

>
> Robin schrieb:
>
>> What really matters, in this family drama, is that somehow, we find
>> our way home. We all know where home is, but we all know that "home"
>> is slipping away.
>
>
> Makes me think of the very end of Ernst Blochs magnum opus "Das  
> Prinzip
> Hoffnung" (The principle of Hope), where Home ("Heimat") gets  
> defined as
> "etwas, das allen in die Kindheit scheint und worin noch niemand war"
> (p. 1628). Something that shines through everybody's childhood and  
> where
> nobody has been yet ...
>
> Kai

Except—maybe—Desmond:

	. . .suspecting already that he was no longer available, that the
	midnight summoning would go safely unanswered, even if she
	couldn't let go. The small meadow shimmered in the starlight,
	and her promises grew more extravagant as she drifted into the
	lucid thin layer of waking dreaming, her flirting more obvious —
	then she'd wake, alert to some step in the woods, some brief
	bloom of light in the sky, back and forth for a while between
	Brock fantasies and the silent darkened silver images all
	around her, before settling down into sleep, sleeping then
	unvisited till around dawn, with fog still in the hollows, deer and
	cows grazing together in the meadow, sun blinding in the
	cobwebs on the wet grass, a redtail hawk in an updraft soaring
	above the ridgeline, Sunday morning about to unfold, when
	Prairie woke to a warm and persistent tongue all over her face.
	It was Desmond, none other, the spit and image of his
	grandmother Chloe, roughened by the miles, face full of blue-
	jay feathers, smiling out of his eyes, wagging his tail, thinking
	he must be Home.

. . . it's such a fairy-tale ending, save little details like the  
R.I.C.O. destruction of the Wheeler Family home. And yet they are  
surrounded by a supportive [and huge] family. And yet, and yet.

Talk to me of Mendocino:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPopA5Y0XcE