Whisk Crepes Café is a tiny new French-bent restaurant on Sylvan Ave. just west of city center. It was pretty busy for Easter Sunday night, but luckily we nabbed some tables. The crepes are delicious and the choices are overwhelming. Natalie and I had the prosciutto crepes, Matthew had the brisket crepes, and Kristen had the cinnamon apple. We all also had to get dessert crepes afterwards. The staff were friendly and attentive even though we stretched our stay to the minute of closing.
[Those who hated the book will just have to explain themselves in the comments.]
"This hawk can see colours I cannot, right into the ultraviolet spectrum. She can see polarised light, too, watch thermals of warm air rise, roil, and spill into clouds, and trace, too, the magnetic lines of force that stretch across the earth."
"Death will be like this, something too vast to hurt much or perhaps even to upset me."
"Wild things are made from human histories. When I was a child I hated what White had thought of his goshawk. But Gos's hawkish ghost moved behind the patterned, living feathers of my own. And their were still darker ghosts behind him."
"I'd thought that to heal my great hurt, I should flee to the wild. It was what people did. The nature books I'd read told me so.... Now I knew this for what it was: a beguiling but dangerous lie."