dolores666's photos with the keyword: Migrations

The lone trees in the lonely wood on the free-floating itinerant islet are charmed by the slow, stately passage of a school of wandering flying sardines. “Don’t leave! Stay! Bide here a while and play with us and have tea!” they plead. But the celestial fish are restless and cannot stop. Theirs is a mysterious itinerary and the reason they follow it is not revealed even to them. They must go where their unknown impulse takes them, poor buggers. The trees are desolate, their island also following an inscrutable course marked by fuck knows who or what, let alone why. See, not all is always fluffy and merry in the Uncertain Zones. There’s also a moderate deal of heartbreak. Ah, well...

Good Moves. The “what might have been” game is one of my top ten favourite heartbreakers. To wit. Imagine if you will, Botany Bay (which the autochthonous people called Gamay), 34°00’16” South 151°13’04” East, January 26th 1788. Arthur Philip and his Fleet of the Damned lands to find the place deserted of both man and beast. Moreover, even the vegetation seems to have vanished entirely and all he surveys is a barren, hostile rocky wilderness. Three weeks before this arrival, following a tip from a very wise and sensitive Brush bronzewing (Phaps elegans) who could sense trouble way ahead, the whole population of Gamay and environs, human, animal and vegetable had migrated temporarily some 1,000 miles North West. Philip decides that the place is a bummer. He tails back and heads deeper into the Pacific Ocean, towards Ponape (now Pohnpei). This intrusion pisses Great Cthulhu off immensely; he wakes up in a foul mood and devours the entire fleet without even breaking a sweat. Then he goes back to sleep. The end. And here’s a picture of a pretty Brush bronzewing for to gladden your eyeballs: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brush_bronzewing#/media/File:Bronze_wing444.jpg

Have a heart. For the homeless, the landless, the forcibly deracinated, the viciously pushed around, the thoughtlessly bulldozed, the despised, the lonely and the ignored. For all the declared non-persons in cold blood by the bullies of the global playground, just because they can. And for the Palestinians, for the First (soon to be Last) Australians, and the Chagossians, dying of broken hearts in some begrudged shanty corner east of Madagascar. This is, again, for Zoraida aka Arsaytoma. I miss you and your drawings, girl.

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

Here is another little bit of that HMCA (Heavily Modified Clip Art) I love so much, plus an original wee worm. A darling Beluga and mates. One can never have too many Belugas, that’s what I think. This one is for Captain Carola Rakete, a sea she-wolf with more balls than many of her male counterparts. And for Judge Alessandra Vella, the woman who got her out of jail and validated her defiance. Here’s to you girls! May your kind multiply and tell the bastards what’s what. www.commondreams.org/news/2019/07/03/judge-releases-german-rescue-ship-captain-saying-carola-rackete-was-fulfilling-her

He’s been made redundant by the true monstrosities wot run the world. She’s had her home razed to the ground by same said bastards that made her little friend unemployed. So, they have teamed up for mutual care and company and, leaving behind all things past, they are taking the high road into the unknown, mysterious woods. Her wee dog and a small Shoggoth keep an eye on them quietly and unobtrusively.

Aka Now Voyager 2.0. I don’t know what’s with me and tadpoles. And wee fishes. Nor do I care. I like them and as I never tire of saying, I’d rather have a tadpole in 10 Downing Street that the monster that skulks around there at the moment. And it could be worse. It could be the BojoBozo Creature, Bumba forfend! Grateful for small mercies? (Some bloody mercies…:-( )