in iceland, englishmen eat the green contents of reindeer stomachs, and consider it a vitamin-enriched delicacy. when they come to australia, they eat the tails of roadkill kangaroos.
headhunting tribes eye english travellers with analytical gaze, probably measuring up a stump. they raise the blood-dripping heads of their enemy, and i blink. i didn’t expect that.
kind of refreshing, really.
in africa, the farmers are dying. there’s some perverse justice there, but what it has to do with the colour of skin, i don’t know. only that, no matter what you were when you began, when your head is turned into a fetish mask, you still look pretty silly.
the englishman is back, making sour face while nibbling on a nice fat grub.
i wonder what kind of expression they’d stretch his face into if he were a fetish mask.
elsewhere, americans are being gnawed on by sharks, and in the northern territories, they’re being chewed on by more wildlife.
when crocodiles snap you up in their rugged jaws, they roll you across the pebbles under the murky water-blanket, making furious love to your body. they don’t want to eat you all at once, though. they keep pieces of your body as trophies. take you out, months later, and remember your struggle.
i watch the pretty newsreader as she crinkles her forehead and tells me about the divers who have been lost forever in the murky coral off our coast. their pale bodies are probably floating across the sea bed wrapped in green algae ribbons, their dragging fingers teasing the clams.
i love tourists. they’re so funky.
headhunting tribes eye english travellers with analytical gaze, probably measuring up a stump. they raise the blood-dripping heads of their enemy, and i blink. i didn’t expect that.
kind of refreshing, really.
in africa, the farmers are dying. there’s some perverse justice there, but what it has to do with the colour of skin, i don’t know. only that, no matter what you were when you began, when your head is turned into a fetish mask, you still look pretty silly.
the englishman is back, making sour face while nibbling on a nice fat grub.
i wonder what kind of expression they’d stretch his face into if he were a fetish mask.
elsewhere, americans are being gnawed on by sharks, and in the northern territories, they’re being chewed on by more wildlife.
when crocodiles snap you up in their rugged jaws, they roll you across the pebbles under the murky water-blanket, making furious love to your body. they don’t want to eat you all at once, though. they keep pieces of your body as trophies. take you out, months later, and remember your struggle.
i watch the pretty newsreader as she crinkles her forehead and tells me about the divers who have been lost forever in the murky coral off our coast. their pale bodies are probably floating across the sea bed wrapped in green algae ribbons, their dragging fingers teasing the clams.
i love tourists. they’re so funky.
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