Yesterday, we decided that my wife and son would go to see Harry Potter, while I would take our daughter Katya, too young for Potter, to see Shrek the third. That we were unaware of Shrek no longer playing in theaters signifies the inordinate infrequency with which we have been to cinemas lately, the last one being the rather unremarkable "Charlotte's Web". This time we were spurred into action by pressure from a long-standing promise we had made to the kids. Since Shrek was out, we decided that Mathangi and Panini (wife and son) would watch Potter and then snack, while Katya and I would snack and watch Ratatouille (in that order to fit slight mismatches in the movie schedules). Unfortunately, Katya was too young for Ratatouille also, for she said there was too much "talking" in the film; but fortunately, I was aged just right for it, or at any rate I enjoyed it so much that this is certainly one for my DVD collection.
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If you could see the individual molecules of air in a perfectly still room, you would see that the molecules are anything but still. They are moving in all directions, apparently randomly. Each has its own spin, and its own story to tell. Yet the room itself, made up of millions of these molecules, has the picture of perfect calmness as though nothing in it is even stirring. In the calm of this room lies buried the solution to the most pressing problem in objective journalism.
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