He floated like a butterfly. He stung like a bee. He needed help getting through the ropes.
The other dog outweighed him by ninety pounds and made the usual mistake of confusing height with authority.
By the fourth round, Paw-li was still barking.
The other dog was no longer in a position to reply.
There was a man, and the man had a dream. He dreamt of an edge that was out of reach. Continue reading...
This essay starts in a museum and ends in an operating room. It's about what art conservators and transplant teams have in common: the work of caring for something irreplaceable while it's between lives, done by people whose names are never on the wall. Read more
Ridley Scott builds worlds of empires, war, rain, smoke and impossible scale. Das Bubo simply asks what happens when you place a dachshund in the middle of them. The result is cinema viewed from eighteen centimeters above the ground, where ambition is still monumental but the snack policy is finally