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It was during the dream time. The time when we were suspended between universes, between light and dark, life and death. The time when I saw the falling star and the fox.
 
The world was in semi-sleep and dreaming, but as always with dreams, the dark mares flitted with manes like black water, through consciousness and unconsciousness. Tales of horror and trauma infiltrated those almost silent sunshine days. Echoes of far off battles, corridors and machinery, exhausted running feet, precious breath, the push of the ventilator and the beeping of monitors… the valiant and the dead… yes that was there, even in the quiet of the night and even in our deepest sleep. We were there, and not there.
 
Death waited in the touch and in the breath.
 
I had trouble sleeping. Woke at four each morning with heart pounding, and speeding, circling, go-nowhere thoughts. Fear prowled the room. What if. What if. Guilt blacked out all hope of dawn and made the future dark. I was alive. Did I deserve it. Would it even last? What if. What if. I rose. Made tea. Tried to read. Went to a window and watched the sky to the east and waited. Weeks… months… we were all waiting, so what was one more hour, to sit and watch and wait? We also serve, who only stand. And wait.
 
I thought of the Bristol churches with their watch towers looking eastwards, the faithful watching and waiting for another kind of dawn.
And waited.
And looking eastwards, there it was. My first ever falling star. A lonely Lyrid, falling… falling… briefly a light to our world.  Out there was hope perhaps.
 
As the sky greyed, things took form outside.
 
A moving shadow caught my gaze. It stopped. A glow of white fur under the body and face. Darkly silhouetted ears, inscrutable eyes, and stillness. Our eyes met through glass: the human being, trapped inside, locked in my own darkness and the small fox out there in the dawn. And I heard her, as if she spoke to me … no… not heard… sensed?... a message without words.
 
This is not a dream.
 
There is always hope.

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Pandemic

From Jackson's Art Blog - Breaking News - Cadmium paints saved!  

30/10/2015

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http://www.jacksonsart.com/blog/2015/10/29/breaking-news-cadmium-paints-saved/

I had no idea this was even happening, until a friend posted the link on Facebook.  But I got to thinking...

Just imagining the future if they'd been banned...

The year is 2017...

...production of cadmium paints has gone underground into illegal and secret paint factories which are occasionally raided and closed down by the Paints Squad police...
...pigment specialists are being dragged away in handcuffs...
...meanwhile in your local organic and wholefood cafe there's a shady middle aged woman in a kaftan with jangling ethnic jewellery and a home knitted pink balaclava... you sidle past her table and give a secret sign...  the 2 inch hog's hair filbert sticking out of your top pocket is also a clue...
...a few minutes later in the loo cubicle and under the cover of several toilet flushes...
'Ok what've you got? Any sulphenamides?'
' 37gm tube of red - watercolour only. £20. If you want acrylic I've got yellow and orange but the price has gone up. 40 quid a tube.'
"Take 15 for the watercolour?"
"Listen I take risks. It's £20 or nothin. Take or leave."
" What about oils?'
"Nah. The source has dried up. Rumour has it a courier's on the way from Afghanistan. Anyone tries to sell you oils you can bet your life it's been adulterated with Azo."
"ok. I'll take the watercolour."
You empty the Cats' Protection collection box which you stole from an old lady in the street (you're desperate and you'll do anything now to feed your Cadmium habit) and count out £19-89 in change and two plastic buttons.  "You could use these for collage?" you say hopefully.
The dealer scowls but allows you to tip the coins into her pockets.
'You can keep the buttons' she sneers. 
The deal is done and you are by the basins clutching your illegal stash when...
Suddenly the door is flung open and big men in flak jackets yell 'POLICE! FREEZE'
The paint dealer tries to get out through the window but gets stuck halfway through. You notice she's wearing stilletto heeled Manolos under the kaftan.... in Cadmium Red...


Next instalment... Who is the mysterious artist in the black mask? And will he or she rescue you from jail so that you can stow away on a prawn boat and make a new life in Mexico where cadmium is mined and still legal...?


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    May 19th

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