Budapest, Saturday afternoon. Bodyworlds, which exams prevented me from seeing in London, has spawned copycats, such as Bodies. I imagine the original to be a lot more artistic and somehow more neatly executed, but maybe they just have better lighting and more expensive photographers doing their promotional stuff.

But it was wicked to see all the muscley bits and a diaphragm, an omentum and so on. And foetuses in jars at a load of gestative stages (digestation = twins?), which look shockingly like they might grow up to be humans... Arteries are much thinner than I had thought. Through Galen's broken foot I came across Jonathan Monks' uncanny ability to suggest what is wrong with you and how to fix yourself: pain in the calf? Press here in the armpit and see how that feels, etc. Then you look at these long nerves and multilapping muscles and begin to see how it all might work.

When the proud fennel citadel finally weakens and falls:

Knees and a nose, a nose and knees

Bodies tells us that there are arteries not far behind.

And I suppose I should also feature the proud fennel citadel in its glory days, but I don't seem to have that picture here sad face

Currently reading: Antal Szerb's short story about a king, Oliver VII. I like his style. I understand that none of the several people (minimum) to whom I recommended The Pendragon Legend has dropped by number 88 to pick it up. What a waste! Still, it will sit and wait, books are nice like that. Not like blogs.