League of Shadows ii.iv
Notes; Tuesday afternoon, 13th April 2563BE
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Stories from Jungles of the Island
What Sets Us Apart
"Do you know how long
to fawkh out
a deep state tickh infestation?”
I remember thy days in the jungle chief; when I my dog Lucy wood come in from a day out on walk aboöts; she would show me her ear; it was enuff to make some ladies cry with fear. I never had the time to bleed them all out; so I would just throw the spirit on in there, and wait for the effects to take hold
and they all fall out...
It was this blue magic stuff its non-toxic for the dog; isopropyl alcoholin; we use on wounds here in Thailand. It would drive me mad thinking about the dogs and what was going on inside their ears; if you catch my memes; in voices & finks.
There are millions of wild dogs in Thailand. 8.5 million dogs. Of which about 730,000 are abandoned by their owners. Bangkok alone is estimated to have from 100,000 to 300,000 street dogs
on the island alone thousands; I would help the local animal shelter PACS
Some were in good shape, others less to say the least; everywhere I went on this earth I met wild gypsy dogs. In 2011 I was in Valparaíso; a City in Chile that is covered with art and street dogs. A centre of graffiti, the origins of which date back to street art traditions which began in the 1960s during the political unrest under Allende. Valparaiso is something of a past master when it comes to colour.
I remembers it well; a fierce dog approached and watched my shadow cast onto a corner; projecting the aspect/archetype that Jung decrypts in visual form; or something crazy like t'hat huh chief
I was chasing Shadows eversince
I carried on round the world, many different adventures. My returning days on the island were long; but, the days in Goa, India were short & dark. The spiritual kindå sharkh. One morning on route to work; the City of Panjim, the kindå scene you on dream of in nightmarish Bollywood film & finkzh. I was on a Honda Dio; tiny wheels, wouldn’t ride on heels if you nahmeme. Approaching our road when on the back of a long trip around the last of all Hippy tails in dead & Ghost worlds long forgotten on the field in ancient tales. I passed a dog that had its insides turned out. I got to work and was crying into my helmet. I spent nights living next to a graveyard deep in local Goan townhouse. And again another morning I sore an accident, a poor man shaking after a crash, his header was smashed.
I’d never put on a helmet again
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