“Black Flies” by Ben Howard

“And no man is an island, oh this I know. But can’t you see, oh? Maybe you were the ocean, when I was just a stone.”

Black flies on the windowsill
That we are
That we are
That we are to know
Winter stole summer’s thrill
And the river’s cracked and cold

See the sky is no man’s land
A darkened plume to stay
Hope here needs a humble hand
Not a fox found in your place

Black flies on the windowsill
That we are
That we are
That we are to hold
Comfort came against my will
And every story must grow old

Still I’ll be a traveler
A gypsy’s reins to face
But the road is wearier
With that fool found in your place

And no man is an island, oh this I know
But can’t you see, oh?

oh this I know
But can’t you see, oh?

So here we are…

And I don’t wanna beg your pardon
And I don’t wanna ask you why
But if I was to go my own way
Would I have to pass you by?


“At Last” by Neko Case

John Donne’s solemn 400-year-old poem against isolationism is resonating today

RICH HILL

BY ANDREW DROZ PALERMO AND TRACY DROZ TRAGOS

Rich Hill, winner of the 2014 Sundance Film Festival Grand Jury Prize for Best Documentary, goes inside the homes and lives of small town America, where kids confront heartbreaking choices, marginalized parents struggle to survive, and families cling to the promise of equal opportunity and a better life — someday. The film follows three teenage boys, Andrew, Harley, and Appachey, as they struggle with isolation, broken families, and lack of opportunity, providing an immersive and realistic picture of growing up poor in America.

PBS “Independent Lens”

CPE

I'm routinely overestimated.

%d bloggers like this: