Greetings!
It's April, 26th, Chernobyl meltdown anniversary.By the way, I was born less than a year before that, and not too far away as wind-borne things go — Just on the southeastern side of the Black Sea. When you're young, you think that one year of a difference is huge, so we regarded those born in 1986 as the Chernobyl generation. Us, 85-ers, we were a totally different generation, you know.
Then, there was the CIH computer virus in our youths, being activated every April 26th. It has been dormant r not popular enough at least for quite a while. I forgot how I used to deal with it as a kid.
We, humans, forgot too many things. In general.
The sand art of an elephant mostly sunk under the surface I took a photo of last week while walking near the beach. This time, the artist was actually there, watering his works. Paul Hoggard — that's what his brochures said. This is also mostly useless detail that does not quite fit the conversation.
The one about Extinction.
Could the end be at hand?
Is the face in the sand
Future memory of our tragedy?
— Iron Maiden
Their songs sounded like warnings in my youth. To me, they sound a lot like reality now.
And it's Two Minutes To Midnight, too. Not kidding. It was. It's less now. Both literally and figuratively.
As the madmen play on words
and make us all dance
to their songs.
To the tune of starving millions,
to make a better kind of gun!
And the less and less remaining elephants to ask the questions that humans tend to avoid.
Peace!
M.
