dolores666's photos with the keyword: Nomads

CucaFera and Baby. Catalan Stuff I. This be the reworking of a cover of a very short-lived Catalan satirical magazine published in Barcelona between April and August 1917. I’m pretty sure the contents wouldn’t have been my cup of Rosie even then but I do love some of the graphics of that period. My CucaFera (Vermis Indomitus Cultus) and her baby, whose name is Laia, have come across a wandering self-exiled Yithian teenager who left its wonder-city back in primeval down-under because of a strong disagreement with the Chief Librarian. See it here, blubbering on lavishly about all the wrongs done to it and how it misses the humid swamps and the luxuriant forests of giant ferns and, worse of all, its loss of library privileges. The scholarly creeper, always sympathetic to such melancholy cases and a sucker for a sob story has offered the defecting youth a loan of her own collection of literary masterpieces, like the complete works of Emma Goldman and a comprehensive edition of Garcia Lorca's poetry. Such a kind creature, she is. Warning: More varieties of Catalan Worms/Dragons/Snakes/Whatnots coming soon.

Patchwork Entities. Behold the Mishmash Man, also known as the Bits & Pieces Man. He was made with leftovers, discarded stuff from the cast off creations of several smarty-pants bombastic demiurges, by a down&out avant-garde sorcerer with a taste for recycling. He travels the Uncertain Shifts with his spiky owlets and a couple of defrocked warrior princesses he met at a villainous tavern in the alien district of !Ting who, unable to find any kind of job in any respectable army or even any disreputable one, volunteered to tag along as his bodyguards and purveyors of silly jokes. They (the ragbag geezer and the two louche damsels) are willing to undertake some (not many) special ops of the Annoy, Harass and Torment variety for a nominal prize* and for the mere joy of it. The owlets can carry messages to & from their higher-born cousin, the owl of Pallas, if you ask them very, very nicely and your message is not total fiddle-faddle. *They neither need nor care for money. They don’t eat and they are quite content to be like the lilies of the field; the raggedy bloke wears whatever the eccentric necromancer clad him in back when and the two misses what they were wearing at the time they had to leg it from whatever sphere they decamped. However, if you offer them a discarded teddy bear or black and white picture postcards of the Plateau of Leng, they’ll throw in a bonus ball of sending nightmares to Priti Patel, for free, por la cara. duckduckgo.com/?t=ffab&q=plateau+of+leng&iax=images&ia=images

This is for Leo. Por que? Por guapa, por simpática, por canaria. Porque amas los animales y las flores. Porque te gustan los churros. Porque lees, aunque no leamos los mismos libros. Y porque hasta hace poco tu nombre de guerra era Lunática en la Luna. Por muchos años, salerosa! Look see, another Moon Maiden. She follows her moons only and doesn’t give a toss for trends, fashions or mainstream media. She has her own mobile bubbles and two small bearish bodyguards. She will travel. She takes small commissions to and from remote corners of the galaxy. Her bear-like companions sing rude re-workings of Gilbert & Sullivan on demand and the bubbles make a mean chicken soup in dire emergencies.

Migrants. aka Navy Blues. She’d been relatively quiet, lately, but it was only a matter of time before she said and did something utterly outrageous -not to say revolting and probably illegal. But there you have it. You can’t keep a bad woman down. Especially when she has powerful friends watching her back and heaps of mundane right-wingers cheering her along. And you know what’s the “irony”? That if push came to shove her powerful friends and her backers down below wouldn’t move a finger to save her from the ethnic purge. Have a lovely week, my darlings, heatwave permitting. And never, ever forget: Today is “them”. Tomorrow … it could be YOU. It’s has happened before. Have un po’ di mu’, to remind you of the dangers of calling up “that which you cannot put down”. www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYjCIor2C7E

ClipArt Master Plan. The one drawback I can see of not being religious at all is that you can’t believe in an afterlife and therefore a heaven or a hell, or even in a post corporeal reckoning of some description, not even reincarnation as a tapeworm. Which is a shame when it comes to fantasizing about the many possible unpleasant hereafter fates of Ms Patel, our gruesome current Home Secretary. I mean she makes Michael Howard look like a boy scout, she does. Oh well, there you have it. We keep on allowing clowns and psychos into 10 Downing St. and that’s what happens. I daresay than come December 12th we will even vote them in. Again. This time with a proper “mandate” (whatever that is when it’s at home…) This is for the travellers she so hates. Today it’s them. Tomorrow…it could be you. Let’s hear it with Ojos de Brujo: La mochila que llevamos Va cargaita de piedras Del abismo ya nos viene Esta mala condición Sólo nos queda la rumba Y una buena bulería Un bailecito por tangos Y el cante del Camarón www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRVwG-X1S_g PS. The four wee monsters at the bottom of the pic are slightly modified free clipart/stickers/emojis/whatnot gizmos wot came with one of the few dozen drawing apps I amass heedlessly and merrily in my tablet. I’ll be damned if I remember which one.

They are big, bold and beautiful. They travel fast and they travel light. But they always have time and space for bona fide chubby orphaned blobs and their companion ghosts. Their names are Minnie "the Moocher", Vinnie "the Don" and Bongo. www.metrolyrics.com/minnie-the-moocher-lyrics-cab-calloway.html