Neighbours from Hell

I don't think I've ever been so angry for so long.

Being threatened with legal action over an issue thought dealt with came as a bit of a shock - but it is a neighbourhood association on the other side of the fence.

The tree was beautiful, it was strong and had, for twenty years, withstood gale force winds with barely a murmur. It wasn't yet full grown when the president of the NA complained about leaves marring the driveway to the townhouses. That was in March. I spoke with one of the residents who basically said, 'pshaw, don't worry about it. We have a gardener who can sweep them up.' Silly me for taking her at her word.

I should also note that I told the president why we didn't want to take the tree down: it absorbs a hell of a lot of water from run-off through our backyard; the natural drainage channel was changed when the bloody 'houses were built - the local council declined to accept responsibility. It gives us shade from the ferocious Summer sun and it was a gift from a now deceased friend.

Then last month we get a letter: take the tree down or we'll see you in court. Why? Because the roots of the tree allegedly bent the fence and are undermining the driveway. The fence was built crooked and there's no evidence of warping in the driveway. Two points I made clear in replying to the lawyers' laughable letter:

...we wish to remain on good terms with our neighbours and seek your urgent co-operation so that this matter can be settled in a fair and acceptable way to all concerned.

Yes, a direct quote. How can it be 'fair' and 'acceptable' and remain on 'good terms' when the NA says 'take it down or we'll sue' while disregarding our arguments? Worse, this is all about the president and her demands. Knowing all the residents, they are condemned by their indifference to the issue.

So we got a final notice: you have 21 days or we're going to court. Much as I would have liked to stare them down across a courtroom, the worry had a detrimental affect on the elderly parent's health.

The tree is no more, taken down yesterday and turned into woodchips. And as upsetting as all this has been, vengeance shall be ours.

We're going to plant three lovely deciduous silver birches. In a few years, the president can watch the leaves change to gorgeous autumnal colours - and then pile up on her doorstep. Every. Damned. Year.

Some days...

...it's better to stay in bed and away from people.

So last month, I took the car in for an expensive service. The following week, they replaced the CV boot - something important and to do with the steering, I believe - the week after that, they replaced the seals on the crank shaft... thingy.

Today, I took the car back so they could reassure themselves about the other, minor leaks.

Two words: 'gearbox' and 'clutch'. Yep. Need replacing. On Monday. What's another thousand dollars? Heh... heh. Hmmm.

Needless to say, I drove home swinging between simmering anger and a pitiful 'why me? Why now?'

The day wasn't even half over when I tried to log in to complete this new job application stuff. Nup. Not. Happening. A long phone call later and I'm in, only to find that, at the end of another two hours of answering questions and submitting information, I have to print out pages, sign and send them off.

The printer, bless it's black heart produced two out eighteen pages before informing me it had run out of ink. Fine. I went up the street for a catridge and was told they didn't have singles, would I like a double - and, gosh, I'd save money! Here's a point: if you don't buy it, you're not buying it; if you buy one, you're spending money. Buying two doesn't save you money because you're already spending more than you wanted to!

Also and including during my day, is the threatened lawsuit from next door's Body Corporate lawyers if we don't take down a perfectly healthy and water absorbing tree. Because they don't like the leaves on their driveway.

Then, even following the instructions on the pack, I overcooked the strudel.

THE STRUDEL!!!

I need to go huddle in a corner now, have some serious me and David Tennant time. I'll be okay with David. If I don't go anywhere, don't answer the phone, for the rest of the day, I should be fine... with the help of some chocolate.

Of cake and wine

Fortunately, I wrote my story this morning - thank you, Marina, for the inspiration.

A friend of my mother's, Ld, called up last week and said the third of the triumvirate, Lr, was heading this way for a Garden Club Reunion.

Now, all three have been friends since, ah, the late 1950s, so it's a long time friendship. Due to retirements, each moved hundreds of kilometres away.

Ld said to expect them on Monday. I made cack... sorry, cake; chocolate, in fact. ("Lr doesn't dobought cake," my mother said.) And so, we waited. No sign of them - and no, Lr isn't the kind of person to ring and say they'll arrive on such-and-such day at such-and-such time. I also arranged for a wine salesman to come on Wednesday, figuring 'if not today, the friend will turn up tomorrow.'

Tuesday, and we finished off the cake, made another. And so, we waited. No sign of them - and no, we didn't know where they were staying, nor their phone number.

Today. I made a nice butter cake, with cream and chocolate frosting - urg, licking the bowls gave me a monumental sugar rush. And we waited - my mother happily watching the television, me, curtain twitching. Two o'clock came and went, then three. I asked the parent whether she'd like to come into the other room to wait. I kept watch on the door while printing out some old photos for her, and we chatted. Finally, four o'clock arrived. My mother gave up and went back to her room, since the wine man was due at 4.30.

And lo, the weary travellers did turn up - at a quarter to five, while I'm sipping a rather bland French white.

The wine man wasn't sure whether to arrange another day, or stay and listen to the reminiscing. I urged him to stay and he settled back, occasionally pouring from a new bottle, that we briefly discussed while the other conversation continued. Lr's husband chimed in with comments every now and then about the wines he wasn't tasting.

Lr and husband declined coffee and cake, and stayed barely an hour. They left with promises of long letters. The wine man stayed another fifteen minutes or so, since he had another appointment.

I bought some rather nice Aussie wines, the story is written and all is right with world after my time with various wines - and there's still cake.

Stop, go

Well, that little experiment failed utterly.

I figured I'd reduce my time on the internet and limit my book readin' in an effort to boost my concentration on writing and editing and creative stuff.

What I found was that staying off the 'net gave me more time to write, but reducing my novel reading also reduced my creativity. Worse, I began to have editing issues, wondering whether something was right, when I knew it was.

I have found that, if I watch a movie, the imagination sparks; if I watch the news or documentaries, or sport, empty-headed blandness is the result.

All I need do is read what I've written for the story-a-day marathon to see the best stories have been written after watching something fun.

I have felt vaguely lost and out of sorts, as if something was missing. Now, I know what it was: the imagination of others.

So, while I'm writing these stories, I'm also working on my historical piece for the museum, a book I promised a beta reader some time ago, and, in my spare time, I'm going to find something to post - it's been too long and I need the adulation of my fan... If I still have one.

Not toasting St. P.

St Patrick's Day... Woo hoo... not.

I don't think a Christian fundamentalist's deliberate destruction of a sovereign nation's religion should be celebrated, especially the religion kept the peace for thousands of years.

Yet, in today's climate, fundamentalists - from a number of religions - still seek to suppress and crush anyone not adhering to their own brand of 'religion'. In a psychological sense these fundamentalists would be described as cultish, not religious, for their constant refining of their interpretations of what is written in sacred texts. But anyone who suggests such a thing is threatened with death for heresy, for daring to question a leaders devout words.

Yeah... no.

A deserving religion demands it be questioned and supply truthful answers; a worthy religion is felt in the heart and resonates. A true religion isn't about whether its' god is the only true god, but about faith to oneself, god and the universe that surrounds us. And a good religion doesn't inflict itself on others, nor does it forceably convert, destroy other religions or seek to subjugate people.

But then, what are the chances the boys from South Park are right and the answer is... the Mormons...?

Twain, Austen and Angry Robots

Controversy first? A competition for literature? Or an opportunity?

Controversy, then, because this kind of shit always makes my blood boil:

Publishers Weekly is reporting, in my opinion, an assault on a much-loved classic. Mark Twain's Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is about to have the word 'nigger' removed by Auburn University Twain scholar Allen Gribben. Quote: "This is not an effort to render Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn colorblind," said Gribben... "I'm hoping that people will welcome this new option, but I suspect that textual purists will be horrified," he said. Unquote.

Is it ever okay to change literature so as not offend the sensibilities of current schoolchildren? My answer is a resounding 'no'. Yes, the word nigger is offensive in today's socially and politically correct climate, but that does not mean it has always been offensive. You cannot change history and to remove a legitimate word from an historical piece negates the value of that piece. There was a reason Twain put the words nigger and injun into his works to make a point; to remove them devalues the book and denies kids the ability to analyse literature.

And while some supporters of this move suggest NewSouth is only a small press and that the idea seeks to make Mark Twain a more attractive option for teachers, I think the argument is a metaphoric pat on the head and a 'don't you worry your little head about it'. I find that contemptuous.

What would be the outcome if an academic decided to change Bronte, Dickens or Austen because they found something offensive in the work?

* * *

And speaking of Jane Austen, the website Bad Austen has a competition: "Write Like Jane". The prize is money and the entry published in an upcoming book, Bad Austen. What makes this fun is that you can write in any genre. The site has works up already and you can vote on your favourite. You need to register to submit your entry.

You're not asked to change any works of Austen, but write in the style of Austen.

* * *

Here's a rare opportunity, Angry Robot Books is holding an Open Door Month in March. This means it will be open to submissions from authors who don't have an agent.

Angry Robot’s Editor, Lee Harris, said, “We’re delighted to be able to offer this opportunity to unpublished and unrepresented novelists. There are a lot of exciting authors out there, just waiting to be discovered, and we’d like to be able to help them kick-start their careers.”

So get your manuscripts ready. It's a new year with new opportunities.

Hot, cold, wet

Yeah. It gives new meaning to the words "wet patch".

No good deed...

So this month I've been collecting for the Heart Foundation. Here, in the country, streets are long and houses widely spaced, but I figured I'd get some good exercise.

Of course, it's been a struggle over the last couple of weeks to actually get out there. Saturday was the last weekend of collections, so out I went, into the dusty, cold wind... and came back wind-burned, eyes red from rubbing the grit away, but heavier in the pocket.

Rather smug, I figured Sunday would be just as lucrative, except on waking I had a stinging face and rather swollen left eye from the dust and the rubbing...

Sunday was thus spent doin' nuthin' but watching teev.

I've done my bit for the charity and now I will bank the proceeds, send the information and call it done since I doubt the eye will go down soon, nor will the wind abate for a couple of days.

Besides, I got work to do.

Defensible?

Here's a question for you, apropos yesterday's post: Should authors defend their work?

My personal answer would be... no. Why? Because the work should speak for itself. A writer's work should encompass whatever might provoke discussion with a plot line that justifies it's inclusion. But there are some things that shouldn't be in a book.

I will agree that in a previous LKH book, the sexual torture of a young boy added to the work, that readers knew the perpetrator should die a nasty death for the action because it was unconscionable within the framework of our current societal morals.

The current controversy is the illegality of the scene with the sixteen-year-old, and whether it contributes to the story itself. I haven't read the book, so I can't comment other than to say such a scene must serve a purpose and not be simply for a 'controversial' element.

Many, for example, laud Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code as brilliant and intriguing, except... it's poorly written and has other flaws.

J.K Rowling is a master of the Tom Swiftlys and, in later books, suffered from a need to make a story as long as possible.

I don't presume to compare Laurel K. Hamilton to Brown and Rowling, far from it - Hamilton is in a league of her own for narcissism and Mary-Sue-ism - and yet all three have written works that have elemental controversy:

Brown for daring to write that Mary Magdalena was more important to Jesus than the Vatican would like Christians to believe and J.K. Rowling for writing about witchcraft, magic, and inferring it's okay to have some. Magic that is.

These two issues created discussion and argument, brought into the light those issues that many see as sacred cows and not to be trifled with. Each generated an industry of tours, fans and yet more discussion.

All I can see of LKH's latest 'cutting edge' scene is outrage, disgust and offence; not intelligent discussion of important issues. To me, it's indefensible as it adds nothing but titilation to those interested in such scenes.

Melting

I shift my work between a desktop PC and the laptop. One is attached to broadband, and the other to dial-up.

Lately, though, every time I turn the PC on, there's a faint whiff of hot plastic, as if something is about to have a meltdown. I don't think that's a good thing, is it?

I haven't had the opportunity to get under the desk to see if it's cord or connection or something else entirely, so I've been using the laptop and the dial-up. Not so bad, but I like the comfort of my desk and chair, of being able to lean back and contemplate what I've written.

The lap top is on a table, not surrounded by my reference texts and the chair is just plain uncomfortable - not conducive to writing.

Still, until I find the source of the smell, I can't do much else, though I know I could use the laptop down there.

I have another distraction, too, whose name is S.L. Viehl.

I thought to sit down and read, but... no new books (I'm economising, don't you know), so I looked in my bookcase. Ah, Blade Dancer and the kick-butt, don't-mess-with-me Jory.

So, of course, I want more! I'll have to settle (snicker, snicker) for the StarDoc series and try to concentrate on the rest of the marathon, work and real life, while waiting for Crystal Healer to come out in August.

Sucky

Well... the first story sucks. It always sucks as far as I'm concerned, but this is suckier than normal. I don't even know if it has any redeeming features.

The one I'm working on now reads more like an abbreviated book and I don't need that given the books I've already written and need to work on to send off.

Yep. The Muse is back in town and ready to rumble, demanding new stuff, ignoring works-in-progress and not caring a jot. That'll teach me let her out on her own.

I don't suppose it's a bad thing, either. After concentrating on so much other stuff, it's nice to get back to the fantasy worlds. And that's the thing. For the whole of May, while travelling, not one story idea popped into my head. Not. One. And I didn't notice!

That is scary in itself, but I still didn't pick up on it when I came home. Nope, just spent time showing off photos and compiling logical stuff into a database. For most of June, I've been doing this project and it's finally done, but still no ideas, even though I planned a month-long write-fest.

It's one of my worst nightmares to think my imagination might fail me, that years of hard work and the helpless need to write was... gone; stolen while I busy elsewhere. I trusted that ideas would always be there for me, that all I had to do was listen to a conversation, read a book, watch a TV program, or even stare at strange clouds and the spark would be there; the kernel of an idea would coalesce the bloom into thousands of words.

Now I know that not to be, quite, true. But it's like coming back from ill health or memory loss. I can't force it; I can only wait and give it a prod every now and then.

What I want to do is bring all that focus and concentration to bear to bring it all back, but all I get is fuzzy images and pauses. Great. Big. Pauses.

But now the Muse is back. And you want to know something? While writing this and the story, I realise I've finished the story. Everything a reader needs to know, or to assume, is done. Yes, it could be longer; yes, I can expand it, and yes, a reader would be pissy about coming to their own conclusions, but it's done. So maybe the malaise is passing.

I think I'll go read a book to find some inspiration.

For those of you in America, Happy Independence Day!

Outrageous assault

On the right to protest.

The Grand Inquisitor, aka the Pope, arrives in Australia for World Youth Day soon and the NSW Government has seen fit to slide in regulations preventing the local citizenry from ‘annoying or causing inconvenience’ to those involved.

Police have stated that ’organisations planning to campaign during World Youth Day events they need to have placards, banners and T-shirts pre-approved or risk losing their protest "rights" - even those groups representing victims of sexual abuse by Catholic priests.’

Under whose definition ‘annoying’ might be isn’t clear and thus paves the way for wholesale pandemonium. Why? Because Aussies don’t like laws that are petulant, disrespectful and unnecessary.

There’s also the caveat of shielding His Nibs from ‘things that might offend the Pontiff’s eyes’. What? The homeless? People abused by the Church? Poor fashion sense? A beautiful woman? How precious can he be?

And here I thought he was for all Christians, not just those who worship at his feet with glorious adulation.

Repugnant, draconian and unnecessary, critics say. President of the New South Wales Bar Association Anna Katzmann said on the ABC news service, “They are repugnant for two reasons. First of all the Government has by-passed the normal parliamentary scrutiny that would be available if they were introduced by an Act of Parliament. Secondly they are an unreasonable interference with people's freedom of speech and movement."
In the Sydney Morning Herald today, a poll lists 90 percent of voters as against the new laws – and I’m one of them.

Were does the government get off suggesting a law needs to be introduced to stop people from ‘annoying’ a select group of radical fundamentalists? If they’d done nothing, the populace would leave the Christians alone. Instead, anyone wearing a t-shirt or waving a banner deemed annoying can find themselves arrested and fined $5500!

To enforce the law, the local State Emergency Service and the Rural Fire Service have been empowered to detain those deemed causing an ‘annoyance’ to World Youth Day participants.

As a way to cause resentment, the law is outstanding; and provocative. Given the Aussie way of mocking those in authority (Australian troops in WWI were described as lacking in discipline for failing to salute superior British officers – one wag reportedly said: “when I see a superior officer, I’ll salute him!”) the result may well be mass protests and ‘annoying’ t-shirts.

There is nothing an Aussie likes more than taking the Mickey out of someone and there is no better target, nor one more deserving, than the Church.

Here's an example of what might be considered 'annoying' in a t-shirt:

(The t-shirt reads: The Pope touched me - curving over a map of Australia - Down Under - with a finger pointing up to South Australia.)

It’s all even more outrageous when you consider the people of New South Wales handed over $95 million dollars for the event, that there will be unprecedented road closures, that the Sydney racing industry had to be moved to allow the Pontiff and his followers space and will lose money hand over fist because of it, that Catholic paraphernalia will adorn public places, that the transport system will be gummed up by obsequious youngsters and that the law covers about 600 spots around Sydney.

So… who, exactly, is being inconvenienced and annoyed here? Why, everyone in Sydney!

There is no reason to afford the Pontiff special treatment, because he ain’t special. There is no reason to shield the man from the realities of everyday life here in Australia. There is no reason to offend the majority of the population. There is no reason to annoy or inconvenience us.

And there is absolutely no reason to introduce regulations that infringe on a person’s legitimate right to protest.

To quote Dom Knight from his blog: …there are few things more annoying than a law that says you can't annoy people.

As far as I'm concerned, if you don't like our laid-back ways, our occasionally irreverent humour, our welcoming ways: stay in Rome with the sycophants.

Gun culture

I often wonder at the suitability of some news items, especially those coming in from the U.S. I can't get behind the almost excited glee of deadly car chases, suspect arrests or endlessly dissecting shootings.

I'd prefer if the reporters gave the story and moved on, unless they have something critical to say.

We don't show live car chases, or arrests, or have such gun violence here in Australia, but I guess watching all those stories on Fox or CNN had to have some affect. So it grieves me to see this, with the headline: "Police Shootout Man Planned Mall Massacre".

Worse, he was aiming for a "U.S. Style" massacre and had the ammunition to do it.

The story has a happy ending after the man was intercepted by police. But this is... this doesn't happen here.

We live in a global community where any information is available at any time, to any one. And yeah, there are some nutters out there who focus on how cool guns are. (If I sound pissy, check LKH's blog on how she thinks a gun is 'safe' just because it's unloaded).

But this is an argument that I could rant about for days. It's one of my own personal buttons. I'll stop now and hope it will be years down the track before somebody else picks up a handgun and decides it'll be fun to be just like an American gunman.

Yawn

Yeah, yeah, I know. But... I haven't seen much happening. The edits are progressing... slow-ly and when my eyes are starting to squint, I stop.

Yes, it's still bucketing with rain - and, damn it, I polished the car last week - the grass is growing out of control and the laundry isn't drying any time soon.

Um... what else? Updated the family tree, found the other side of the tree but can't access it and stayed up much too late reading J.D. Robb (David Weber requires mucho effort, but I'll get back to it soon). I also solved the missing tripod problem: I bought a new one - of course, the old one will turn up soon.

And that's about it... except... ah... I forgot to post a story this week, so I'm working on that, too.

So, this week, not much has been happening; what can I say?

WTF...?

I've been trying to get the website to show the excerpts I have. I don't know whether it's because I haven't visited in a while, but not one .pdf file is coming up. Worse, it shuts down Explorer, with an error message.

Fed up and unable to see why nothing works, I've changed my browser to Mozilla Firefox. I had no idea Explorer was such a slug!

It didn't fix the problem, but instead of being tossed, it loads a blank page, which is more convenient (if you know what I mean). And the pages load faster; I should have done this sooner.

Anyway, I'm planning on studying the issue - none of the html code changed, so I'm at a loss to explain it. I'll figure it out - I haven't worked hard on these WIPs just for readers to get a blank page. Besides, it's taken me a long time to learn to share (insert pout here). Solutions and ideas are welcome.

WTF file

People, and their attitudes, never cease to amaze me. To wit:

From the AAP news service (emphasis is mine) - "A driver who killed six teenagers on a country Victorian road as he balanced his four-year-old son on his lap believes he did nothing wrong and blames an absence of speed signs for the smash, a court heard on Monday.

...he did not see the teenagers until after he had lost control of the car while he was driving around a right-hand bend in the road, travelling between 80km/h and 90km/h.

"I mean there was no speed (sign) and I feel as though that - that's the reason why the accident happened," he told police."

Umm... This idiot also left the scene of the accident; his daughter, aged 10, told police that: her brother was not wearing a seatbelt while her dad went "really fast" around the corner. And this guy doesn't believe he did anything wrong!

From Reuters - Real men don't pose for the cover of a Harlequin romance. And that's something the publisher wants to change.

Representatives of Harlequin Enterprises, the world's biggest publisher of romance novel series, inspected the assets of about 200 men who lined up at a Toronto casting house on Saturday to prove they could flutter readers' hearts better than professional models.

"We're looking for some guys that are not your usual models, but have that iconic look that women go for -- sexy, sensitive, beautiful and fit," said Harlequin spokeswoman Marleah Stout, who attended the open casting.

"We want real men ... exactly what you think in your mind when you're fantasizing or imagining that ideal man."

I guess Fabio isn't a real man after all; nor are the models used.

And this one, from Famous Magazine - "In a sequence of events that truly have to be seen to be believed, the UK Daily Star has reported that Victoria Beckham wants to start a Hollywood book club.

The 32-year-old is apparently keen to teach her American friends about English literature, and sees the club as a perfect way to get started. The exclusive club will meet once a month at each other's houses to discuss the book on the menu, and thus far the titles up for nomination are Jane Austen's 'Pride and Prejudice', 'Emma' and 'Sense and Sensibility', as well as anything by Charles Dickens and Thomas Hardy."

'Friends' include Katie Holmes and Jennifer Lopez. Not surprisingly, it's not being taken seriously. After all, this from a woman who once confessed to a Spanish newspaper, 'I haven't read a book in my life. I haven't got enough time. I prefer to listen to music, although I do love fashion magazines."

techno-t!

I consider myself fairly well versed in technology, but sometimes, I wanna just [insert lots of expletives here]!

At first, the mouse - the backup - was a little stiff (the arrow, actually), then it stopped completely. It's an infra-red mouse and still glowing, but this time with malice. It refused to work. I tried to reconnect to my cordless; again, that malevolent little light gleamed at me, but refused to work. The arrow was stuck up in the corner of the screen. Neither would work, no matter what I did.

So, I'm using the third back up (you guessed it, I can't seem to throw anything away no matter how antiquated). If this one fails, I'll be right back to the original mouse: two buttons and a mouse ball.

Then... the infra-red, cordless keyboard went on strike.

I swear, I did nothing to offend them! Well, okay, the cordless keyboard no longer has print on some of the letters, like, um, the 'n' and the 'l'; the 'o', 'p', 'k', 'm', 's' and 'e' are showing wear, too, but I would have thought them more robust!

The back up keyboard works just fine: no wearing on the letters (though I think they'd protest about that). The feel is good, too, better than I expected and just as fast.

I wonder if I should buy another new keyboard and mouse? The mouse, in particular, is important because I'm running out of usable, software-compatible mouses. (Maybe they just need a rest...)

WTF?

I was up at the local supermarket yesterday, sneering at the tourists, lamenting the lack of goods on the shelves with the locals, chatting to the exhausted shelf-stockers when I saw them...

Easter Eggs!

I'm sorry, but WTF?

The year is but a pup! Four days old! And some marketing schmuck thinks it's a good idea to get on with the next big holiday season? No. Absolutely nuh-uh!

I'm still trying to work out how many ways I can cook with New Year's ham! There are still hidden areas of festive wrapping paper to find (kids are sooo cunning when it comes to hiding good lookin' paper - and busted toys). There are empty beer bottles/wine glasses to find (why do people put them in places where you won't find them until All Hallows Eve?).

Sure, it's chocolate and there's no such thing as bad chocolate.

I'm still in shock. Easter Eggs. In January - mid-summer - with nary an Autumn leaf to behold. It's just not right.

***

Got another shock walking home. This:

dropped out of the tree right in front of me. It's a Greengrocer; a type of Cicada. It may not look like much, but it's head had been scythed off - very neatly. It's legs were still in the process of crossing over in death. I didn't see the creature who did it, but wow! It was so neatly done. Not a bird, I think, but something else. (Of course, the imagination took off and images of a giant Praying Mantis slashing away, or a Huntsman spider - bigger than the hand - going thwack; you get the picture.)

It's supposed to look like this (pikkie from the Australian Museum site:

The head has been taken off just above the wings. Pretty awesome; a straight line that could have been done with a knife it was so neatly done. And yeah, I could have found one of my other photos to post, but this was just so amazing, I couldn't help myself.

This is Mother Nature at her most brutal: a quick decapitation, a body falling to earth and a creature becomes food for the ants. By morning, the body was gone, except for a delicate, iridescent wing.

I love the colour of the cicada; there's also a Yellow Monday which is, as expected, a golden colour.

This new camera is gonna get a work out, I just know it...