Winchester rooftops in the sunshine on a creative morning when a new project was being laid out on a table. I love mornings like this and a new view to photograph only added to the new ideas that were being bounced back and forth over notebooks and tea as a story outline and storyboard was beginning to take shape. But the day is pepper sprayed with a really bad vibe (which is the subject of the new project I am working on). I am ashamed to say I heard this on the news late last night, 'Britain will not support any future search and rescue operations to prevent migrants and refugees drowning in the Mediterranean, claiming they simply encourage more people to attempt the dangerous sea crossing, Foreign Office ministers have quietly announced.' Quietly announced, quietly announced, no fracking wonder because its a fracking disgrace of a Tory government thing to do and the think they can sneak around like wee mice in the night (rats more like) - and its not rescue operations that encourage more to attempt crossing, its desperation you fracking fools. But I loathe the whole language of it too, like this from The Guardina (sic), do you mind, 'The British refusal comes as the official Italian sea and rescue operation, Mare Nostrum, is due to end this week after contributing over the past 12 months to the rescue of an estimated 150,000 people since the Lampedusa tragedies in which 500 migrants died in October 2013. 500 'migrants', its as if the word will suffice, well it fracking won't. That shocking disaster saw 500 men, women and children die. People with lives and loves and feelings and dreams of a better life. Fahad Abdul Kariem, a survivor said, 'I was wedged into the hold, legs apart so that another migrant could sit in front of him. The next, the Mediterranean swell was rolling the vessel, the motion aggravated by the scores of African and Indian migrants clinging to the roof canopy. And everyone was in the water. I was under the boat when my hand caught a lifebuoy that I clung to as the last resort... I saw bodies floating on the sea. Some were wearing lifejackets. One was a child. But I could not see where my friend Ayman was.' They weren't there because of newsreels showing rescues, they were there because they were desperate for a better life, desperate for a better life, desperate for a better life, desperate for a better life, desperate for a better life, desperate for a better life, looking for a better life, searching for a better life, putting themselves at enormous risk, for a better life - who can bear to think about it? I read what is being done in my name by my fracking excuse for a government, with their privileges and perks and ministry cars and I would weep if I wasn't so fracking angry. I have been saving this song for myself but its time, ever single person has a sweet little mystery, let's not call them crap words like 'migrants' as we remember that - ooh sah, I need to calm down:
