asakiyume: (feathers on the line)
Where do migratory birds have their home?

Below are just three screenshots from a series of 16 photos on the Instagram account of somadifusa (Laura Ortiz), of murals she and the tattoo artist Azul Luna (Instagram account azulunailustra) painted in Bogota, Colombia.

I'm captivated by these images both of traveling swallows, some bearing backpacks and baskets, some with shells on their back like hermit crabs, and of hearts that are also nests, or that morph into shells, or sprout flowers and eyes. "Home is where the heart is," or the heart makes the home.

They write [my clunky translation--see the link at the end to see their original]
I have seen swallows nest in dark passageways, in airports, beneath bridges, in the palm of a hand and in the center of a star. Their wings cover kilometers, crossing the scars of the earth, their free flight reminding us that to migrate is not a crime and that borders are imaginary.


art by Somadifusa and Azulunailustra

art by Somadifusa and Azulunailustra

art by Somadifusa and Azulunailustra

art by Somadifusa and Azulunailustra


They conclude their post with a Spanish translation of a poem they believe is by Emily Dickinson, but there's absolutely no sign of it in English, and no sign of it in Spanish, either, except their post. Very strange... Please let them not have been taken in by an AI hallucination... please let there be some other explanation

Original post on Instagram
asakiyume: (man on wire)
Today Wakanomori ran the Hartford Marathon. With this marathon, he's run a marathon in every New England state (not to mention several in New York). But two people running in today's marathon were using it as a capstone for running a marathon in every state, so there are always new goals to achieve.

I kept myself entertained by limping around Bushnell Park, which is not named after a corporation, as I darkly suspected (there is a Bushnell Corporation, but it's headquartered in Kansas), but after Rev. Horace Bushnell (1802–1876), who in 1853 proposed a park for the city.

I spent some time on this carousel (video is under 10 seconds)



--riding this horse, whose magnificently lolling tongue I admired:

tongue lolling

The horses all had really horsehair tails ... I was reminded a little of [personal profile] sartorias's Marlovens.

Along with horses, the park had some charming frogs:

frog, children's playground, Bushnell Park

They have spouts in their mouths and were in a playground area, so I'm guessing they add a fun water component in warm weather.

The marathon was tremendously well resourced. Here is a helper:

a helper

But initially I was in some kind of a mood--maybe partly because of the evidence of poverty around the place we spent the night and on our walk from where we parked.

Not evidence of poverty; just a mood-appropriate image from some cornice
building decoration

my grumble )

But everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves at the park, and after writing a letter and watching a fountain and seeing a monarch butterfly high up in the air--and riding the carousel--so was I. As I leaned on the railing in the spot I'd claimed at the finish, a young woman came and stood nearby for a while.

"Do you know how I can get over there?" she asked, pointing to the other side of the street.

"I think you just have to walk along until you come to a break in the barrier, and then you can cross," I said. "Do you have someone running?"

"No, I'm just visiting, and it happens to be a marathon," she said, laughing. Then, a moment later, "I admire their spirit."

Me too. It's not a zero-sum game. It's possible to have both public bathrooms AND marathons.

mural, Hartford, CT

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