Cairn of Melangé

Cairn, acrylic/ canvas, ed touchette, 2011, 20" x 24"

Just off Rt U2, in what now is known as the Common, we saw the Cairn of Melangé. The culture of a region is buried here.

Some years ago, leaders in the dominion demanded compliance and adherence to sameness to ease the stresses of governing a heterogeneous population. Commonality was encouraged; dissent was ignored. Consequently, all became usual and nothing of value remained. Surprise was cancelled. Save the granite boulders and outcroppings on which the region had been built, all disappeared. Scientists studying the remains have determined that lichen on the boulders of the cairn hold promise but its development into anything resembling the miscellany once thriving here remains eons in the future.

We rarely purchase souvenirs but at The Cairn of Melangé, the District's Governors have established potpourri shops as an homage to the once cultural hotbed. My aunt bought a pound of a rose petal, lavender mix.
(Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Rampant Afflictions

Beach People, 1984, ed touchette, monotype with etching ink and conté crayon

We headed for the beach at Nuevo Nuevo Novel to spend some time reviewing our trip so far. To no avail, I might add. The sands there attract folks from all genre. Most suffer from attention deficit so they constantly, interminably strive to outdo others with their mannerisms and dress. Although pop music instruction is the most popular, posturing and posing classes attract a fair share of the population. It is impossible for shop owners to keep sunglasses stocked. As you can see from this photo my aunt took as we sped along Rt 14591, posers rule in Nuevo Nuevo Novel.  (Excerpted from Travels with My Aunt)

Kinesis

 

At Saint-Grégoire des montagnes: We approached a travelers hut with circumspection, understanding, having read a recent issue of The Honest Tourist, that previous venturers had met tragedy in similar conditions. We peered carefully across a valley to ascertain the presence of possibly dangerous animals, vegetables or alternative forces. Realizing none of our premonitions of disaster, we lay back our heads and indulged a previously undiscovered cellular want of calm.

Several hours later, bloated with chroma, we beheld the majesty of the mountainside sanctuary and involuntarily broke into song. Much later, energized as only a kinesiologist might determine (my aunt literally dancing for several miles) we continued on—where-to being of little or no concern given the sense of well being proffered by the sanctuary. (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

An exciting city center

Most travelers entering the bowels of Brivol will opt for a guided tour as the city's design leaves many wanting direction. Nonetheless, tensions ease as travelers relax and the experience generates a sense of well being. The mind being utilized in ways previously unfamiliar begets confidence. Movement becomes fluid. After this, many find that carefully planned excursions deny the excitement of improvised treks.

Chroma Valley

We'll be stopping off in Tolivia to visit the discount bazaar. Sunglasses are a prerequisite when visiting Chroma Township. Can't wait to experience the colorful lifestyle its residents cherish. (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Relief

Travelling northward approaching St. Martin de Midi to visit Tuscal Township, the home of Black and White University, where, approximately 52 years prior, A. matriculated as a student of canine behavior. B&W, its popular appellation, is a school without values. No in between. Gray has been expunged from all dictionaries. Students are graded on a scale that includes 0 or 100. They graduate Magna Cum Laude or NAA —Not At All. NAAs are allowed an additional semester to complete the required coursework with perfect scores but most waive this right and opt to enter graduate programs elsewhere. A. is a former NAA, and, subsequent to her receiving her NAA, opted for graduate studies at another institution. We were at B&W to present the university's chancellor with a portrait of A's favorite dog, Noir. (A portrait of Blanc, A's Havanese, has been bequeathed to the university.)

However, at Franc du Lacque, A. lost the keepsake, a pendant featuring a likeness of Noir's head, carved in the mid 20th Century by Noir's handler, a walking-shooting dog competitor temporarily incapacitated by a torn ligament in his ankle. This rendition depicts Noir, nose to the air, catching a whiff of the beef livers, A. stored on the window sill above the pantry sink. Quail never interested the dog all that much, thus his placement with A. (Excerpted from Travels with My Aunt)