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I grew up on Bond, and it is part of my culture, especially in Britain. Just to be known as a Bond girl is an incredible thing for me, because some of my favorite actresses have been Bond girls, like Diana Rigg and Honor Blackman, and they have continued to work and be brilliant. I am honored and flattered to be called that, even though I don’t really think my character is Bond-girly, but I’m still going to be labeled as a Bond girl, which is completely brilliant.
Fear is crippling. Fear of the future can convince us that there is no way out and nothing is ever going to get better. Fear is blinding; it can make us miss the warning signs flashing right in front of our eyes. It can also make you miss those brilliant flashes of color, when the world isn’t so gray. But, if you think about it, being afraid isn’t such a bad thing. Because fear is a reminder that you still have something to lose. Something worth holding onto.
One is quite astonished to find how many things there are in the landscape, and in every object in it, one never noticed before. And this is a tremendous new pleasure and interest which invests every walk or drive with an added object. So many colours on the hillside, each different in shadow and in sunlight; such brilliant reflections in the pool, each a key lower than what they repeat; such lovely lights gilding or silvering surface or outline, all tinted exquisitely with pale colour, rose, orange, green or violet.
I could not understand how people could not like something as beautiful as the aerodrome. But I had lately become convinced that in general people were pretty boring. They liked to moan for hours on end about how hard it was to make ends meet, about the money they owed, the price of food, and other similar worries, but the minute some more brilliant or attractive subject come up, they were struck deaf.
As I wish for you dreams that will soothe your soul, dreams that will whisper of secrets untold. I wish for you dreams that will capture your life, dreams so spectacular and bright you can know no strife. I wish for you my child, a dream as brilliant as sunrise, and warm as it’s gentle rays. But most of all precious one, I dream for you, of many peaceful days.
I can’t save you like that Ty. What you did to me wasn’t this brilliant thing, like you think it was. You took me away from everything – my parents, my friends, my life. You took me to the sand and the heat, the dirt and isolation. And you expected me to love you. And that’s the hardest bit. Because I did, or at least, I loved something out there. But I hated you too. I can’t forget that.
That’s our mirror. Every dip, every crash, every bubble that’s burst, a testament to our brilliant stupidity. This one gave us the railroads. This one the Internet. This one the slave trade. And if we hope to do anything about saving the environment, or getting to other worlds, we’ll need a bubble for that too. Everything I’ve ever done in my life worth anything has been done in a bubble: in a state of extreme hope and trust and stupidity.