Two days of filming, and away they went, leaving behind only those objects too heavy to pick up immediately: some trees in planters and a scattering of dying cuttings. I was surprised to find that the trees were encased in concrete, with the trunk rising through a hole not much larger than the trunk. Inspecting this, I looked up to see someone very like the director, watching me. No, I didn't ask: it's more fun to think it might have been.
Later, after a shower, I went back to find that the planters were wood, sprayed with slurry, and even the light rain had been enough to make them begin to fall apart at the seams. Already the passing foot-traffic was filling the bases with trash, and the stubs where the roots would have been exposed the fake ivy. In one corner, a heap of discarded pot plants withered, unwatered. Hollywood had passed and left its discards.
We do wonder what will happen to the trees...
Diana Wynne Jones' Autobiography
Wondering what was happening to Diana Wynne Jones, I wandered over to her website, where I found her autobiography. Despite the ant-like crawling thing at the bottom of the page, I read every bit, all the way to the end, and so should you.
2007.08.26 in Commentary | Permalink
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