Andy and Anna peace movement?

This is a post by Swedish artist Anna that was inspired by a conversation on one of my posts-some light hearted comments on a dark-subject post. Our newly fledged Anglo-Scandinavian peace movement. In Polyester or fleece 🙂

Annas Art - FärgaregårdsAnna

A comments thread that maybe went wild?

You can read the post and the comments to get a picture of what happened. Here’s the link.

This is the comments that made me create an image in my head

And here’s the drawing 😉

Thanks Andy for the inspiration to the drawing!


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Mongrel Nation

My annual St.George’s Day post. Ancestors. Parade Day in Manchester. Celtic Saints. African Ancestry. Genetics. Connections. A couple of flags.

Happy St.George’s Day to you in England and the great diaspora.

City Jackdaw

St. George’s Day again. I tried to reblog my original post that I did on this day, two years ago, but think that I can only reblog a post once? Anyway, the highlighted, following title should take you to it. It is about St.George, St.Aidan, Ancestry, History, DNA, and what it means now for me to be English, or rather, British, or rather, African. Go figure. Mongrel Nation.

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New Poem/Dissapearing Ice

Great poem I read this afternoon, about the changes taking place, and the damage being done, to this area on our watch.

Katie Metcalfe

Disappearing Ice

This is not our ice.
This is not our weather.

Our circle is contaminated

Today we drink soot,
eat meat needled with toxins.

In my dreams, the ice is thick
again and clean.

This morning, we found the headless
body of a seal, drifting in the shallows.

My small son stuck his head
into the gaping wound.

The insides are missing,
he shouted. Hungry walruses
sucked them away I told him.

He came to me, wrapped his arms
around my neck. I kissed the stinking
skin on his forehead.

The drums, dances and stories
which held the ice together,
have fallen silent.

The waves are changing shape.

I can no longer draw a map from memory,
because the land changes faster
than I can blink.

At night the ocean screams.

We sit in our house at night listening,
afraid to fall asleep.

The Arctic is a battleground,

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