Last night, as a cat nestled in the crook of my arm and its paws rasped happily over my fingers, I thought: I’m just a step away from a 17th-century witch trial. None of my neighbours in this part of London has an ailing pig or a crop prone to blight, praise be. But we all have our sorrows, and all need a way to explain them too ourselves. A cat and a pact with the devil are as good as … [Read more...]
David Jays on theatre and dance
An ArtsJournal Blog