A decent episode of The Walking Dead last night, "The Other Side", featuring some more nice one-on-one character scenes, particularly between Gregory and Simon and Sasha and Rosita.
Spoilers after the screenshot
Jeez, can Rosita (Christian Serratos) catch a break? Foiled again! How many times have her plans gone awry for extremely improbable reasons? Negan's bat just somehow happening to be in the way of her bullet and then Sasha (Sonequa Martin-Green) spontaneously deciding to deny Rosita the death in battle she wanted by somehow closing up that gate faster than Rosita could react. The gods, that is the writers, are holding Rosita's forehead while she swings her fists at the air. Good grief.
But wait, what's this? A crossbowman appears! Is it Daryl or Dwight ? I guess I hope it's Daryl though that wouldn't make much sense after the talk he'd had with Maggie (Lauren Cohan) a few scenes earlier. I have a feeling that's Norman Reedus in the shot but it'll turn out to be Dwight next week.
Rosita and Sasha finally bonding was nice though you'd think Negan's people would've taken precautions regarding nearby buildings with perfect sniper positions. It's a bit surprising Sasha and Rosita didn't feel remotely apprehensive about having a heart to heart right there.
The other stand out pair in the episode was Simon (Steven Ogg) and Gregory (Xander Berkeley). Berkeley in particular is so good at being perfectly two-faced, pained at being forced into obsequiousness through his habitual lordly pose. Meanwhile, he just got a password to get into the Saviours' base, didn't he? I have a feeling the reason he's particularly an asshole at the end of the episode and in the trailers for next week is misdirection--I think he's going to give that password to Rick or Maggie. If he hasn't already given it to Daryl.
Twitter Sonnet #974
In cotton candy carts, the miners grin.
Descending to the clouds from heaven's grime.
In grape or lemon sugar dust we spin.
To dig for souls accordions are fine.
The yarn contrived to ape a mite observes.
A list of pies accrued in undergrowth.
No sun or moon collects what it deserves.
A gentle tap and peace reverts to both.
The plastic wheel could not crawl up the string.
A phone we left behind shakes on the seat.
The water squeezed the moon to make it sing.
A crossing tide of rope lifts up the feet.
Persistent blonde apparitions abeam.
A dolphin flash did not forestall the dream.