We listen on an indrawn breath, our hands involuntarily gone to our hearts, to the beautiful Lullula arborea – the fluttering, avian heart of Thomas Hardy – and exhale the word: ...
Then, the light dimmed. It wasn’t a darkness, but a hush, a collective indrawn breath. And in that moment, beneath the watchful gaze of the eclipsed sun, something profound happened. It wasn’t just ...
“I love making an audience gasp. I don’t crave the sound of applause. I crave the sound of sharply indrawn breath. That’s a good sound.” “You mustn’t judge Australia by the ...