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juniaships · 9 months

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My idea for Frozen 3

Which surprisingly acknowledges the second movie! Even though I dislike it, I'm not going to pretend it doesn't exist. Well, think of it as a Frozen 2.5 as it's more of a spin-off movie. Rhe story takes the magic mirror elements from the Snow Queen tale. Tw for Flashing Images

Ominous green fire not included

The movie starts with Hans is still on punishment for his actions in the first movie. He's sick of shoveling horse crap and resents his station in life. One day his father offers him a deal: find a magic mirror and bring it back and he will reverse all charges. Maybe even upgrade his rank. Seeing it as a chance to finally prove his worth and get back at the people who wronged him, Hans eagerly accepts the deal.

He boards a ship set coursed to Westleton as a starting point. But one evening it gets caught in a cyclone and Hans is thrown overboard. Miraculously he lands on a deserted island. Turns out the island is inhabited by a beautiful woman named Kirsten. Her only companions is a female reindeer named Anders and a artic fox kit named Sian (pronounced shee-anne).

To Hans's surprise Kirsten has the mirror he's looking for. So he puts on the charismatic Prince Charming act to try to trick her. But Kirsten is no Anna: she sees right through it and shuts him down! She already knows about Hans as she heard about what he did from the villagers she often stayed with. She decides to take him as her hostage.

Kirsten says she got the magic mirror from one of her great grandparents. Her family were far from royalty and couldn't make ends meet. One of her relatives stole a precious item from a powerful mage to exchange it for food. As a result they got the entire town cursed, which ultimately led her family's exile. She believes that by returning the mirror back to original place, she can end the curse. She could give it to Hans and pass the curse on to him but that would be taking the easy way out.

While on the Island Hans and Kirsten try to get along. He's bitter over losing another chance to be a king and she is upset that she's pretty much stuck with the worse guy on Earth. Doesn't help they have to face obstacles such as like giant bugs; a river of lava that can only be crossed via a wonky bridge; and questionable berries.

Gradually the duo starts to get along particularly after Hans saves Kirsten's life. The journey also forces Hans to rely on strengths other than his manipulation.

During a heart to heart, Hans admit the reason why he's so obsessed with getting the mirror is to show up his family; as he was the youngest they blame him for the death of the Queen (who had died giving birth to him). Kirsten replies while that doesn't excuse taking it out on Arendelle, he was still a innocent baby who did not deserve to be treated that way. The honest talk pushes Hans to consider if it's actually worth it.

In Arendelle Hans brothers' are there, not really caring about the possibility of their brother dying. Anna and Kristoff are uneasy working with them but knows that Hans is a potential threat, unaware that he is changing for the better.

After getting to the other end of the island they make it to a coastal village and stowaway to Arendelle (how ironic). Hans is terrified so Kirsten disguises him as a sailor. By luck they arrived during a time of a festival so Kirsten decides to take a breather. Hans teaches her how to dance and Anders and Sian push for them to be a couple much to Kirtsen's amusement.

After a day of jest Hans and Kirsten resume their quest and make it to the trolls. Grandfather Troll tell them about the hall of mirrors. The others trolls know that Hans is bullshitting with the disguise but Grandfather Troll senses that this is a necessary journey for Hans so they can't interfere.

The quartest go to an abandoned Cave (the mountains Elsa were in the first movie) which turns out to be the entrance to the Mage's house. That's where the ultimate test begins. Hans sees a reflection of himself at various points in his life, and the events that culminated in the monster he was in F1. Realizing he doesn't like what he sees Hans resolves to finally change his life and plans on telling his father the mirror is lost. Kirsten undergoes her own test as her "loner" mentality made her miserable and time with Hans made her regain her sense of trust and joy.

Confronting their past selves they pass the test. But Just as Kirsten is about to return the mirror, Hans' brothers show up (having tracked them down) and take Sian and Anders hostage. To save Kirsten's life he takes the mirror and asks his brother to put her under house arrest. Kirsten is upset and tells him off, which hurts Hans.

Back in the Southern Isles Hans gives his father the mirror. With the item now in his possession the king starts making plans to invade the other nations in the fjord. Hans is given a new rank but cannot enjoy it as he's guilty for lying to Kirsten even if it was to save her life. Knowing his family's true intentions Hans decides to go to the last person to ask for help; Queen Anna.

Hans surrenders himself to the Arendelle authorities and is brought before Anna. She's still angry over his actions. Hans pleads that this isn't about that anymore and he is ready to accept full responsibility. But his father is plotting to take over the entire realms, he has one of hus friends locked up, and he needs her and Elsa's help. Anna senses that the desperation is genuine and reluctantly helps him. She learns about Hans's special friend and skeptical over it.

Together with Honeymaren's tribe the heroes go to the Isles and confront the King. Hans sneaks to the tower and frees Kirsten. She punches him and about to do it again when Hans catches her and confesses he only said that to save her life. He has seen what kind of monster his father really is and no longer wants to put up with him. But first they need to stop him before he brings about a world war. Kirsten is relieved that Hans isn't lying, but she makes her grumpiness clear. During the fight they're arguing and accidentally let slip they like each other.

The heroes end up playing keep away with the mirror but the king gets it and about to turn Kirsten to stone. In an intentional callback to the scene in F1, Hans jumps in the way and gets turned to stone. The king is unsympathetic that he turned one of his own kids to stone. Suddenly Sian bites him causing the mirror to fly out of his hands. Kirsten catches it and smashes it.

The effects of the mirror ends. But Hans remains frozen. Heh. Touched by his sacrifice Kirsten weeps over his body. Then the ghost of the OG mage arrives, having witnessed Hans' sacrifice. Even though Kirsten's family stole the mirror, her determination to set things right and sacrificing her only chance at breaking the curse, made the Mage so impressed he takes pity on them. That, and Hans finally putting his life towards what's actually important.

Hans is restored and he and Kirsten embrace. Much to the shock of his family, Hans renounces his royal title and leaves for good. After the battle the nations in the region decide to cut the Southern Isles and arrest the King. The twelve brothers fight over the throne which eventually leads to the monarchy getting dissolved. Being replaced by a kinder more just Prime Minister.

While Anna and Hans' don't become friends they do become allies. Hans and Kirsten travels the world a bit more, focusing on helping people and Hans working to repair his reputation. Even meets her family (who live with Honeymaren's village). Shortly afterwards, Hans is working as an ice harvester and Kirsten is a writer and publishes stories based on her adventures.

An alternative version of the final battle is the king almost turns Hans into stone to punish him for his betrayal but Kirsten takes the blow instead. Hans realizes this is exactly what Elsa felt when Anna turned to stone. He fights his dad and gets the mirror and smashes it. He cries over Kirsten's, the act of true love cures her and the original owner of the mirror takes pity and heals her blah blah blah blah blah Yes it is cheesy. It's a fuckin disney princess movie let me have fun dammit!!

And later when Elsa sends a message that requires Arendelle, Hans and Kirsten decides to go as he wants to make it up to Elsa too.

The story essentially is removing the metaphorical shard in Hans' eye and leading him to experience the world on his own terms and not just what his family expects. You don't have to help the people who ruined your life and doesn't care about you; but also redemption takes a lot of time and work. You might not always be forgiven but the results are truly worth it. Also learn to consider someone else's need and help people without expecting a reward all the time.

#frozen #frozen 2 #frozen 3 #frozen salt #kinda #frozen oc #disney oc #oc x xanon #hans x oc #disney

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a-solitary-sea-rover-backup · 3 months

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SailGPokémon

In real life, some of the SailGP athletes like to talk about their pets. But if they lived in the Pokémon World, what unusual creatures might they bond with there?

Tom Slingsby- Growlithe

(There are a lot of dog Pokémon that could represent his dog Nala, but Growlithe’s Fire type seemed appropriate for his personality. She’s also kind of a redhead!)

Phil Robertson— Eevee

(Having been skipper of SailGP teams from three different nations, Phil adapts to any culture and environment, just like this famously-adaptable Pokémon that can evolve in many different ways. A Vaporeon is probably still the best Eeveelution for a sailor, though.)

Ben Ainslie— Glastrier

(This frozen unicorn fits with the “reindeer cyclone” livery Team GBR had for the 2022 season and with Ainslie being a knight. It also represents the Scottish unicorn on the UK Coat of Arms— I guess it would be more appropriate to pick a Galaran Pokémon but I couldn’t find one I liked.)

Quentin Delapierre— Meowstic

(Not a Water-type or a rooster like their symbol, but these Psychic cats are stylish, Breton-striped, and come from Poké-France [Kalos]. The male’s blue-and-white stripes look almost exactly like Team France’s livery.)

Erik Heil— Donphan

(Rightly or wrongly, Team Germany are strongly associated with car racing because of one of their founders, and this guy is a pygmy elephant that curls up to run things over like a car tire. But elephants are also known to swim pretty well and it can probably help hose down the boat with its trunk.)

Peter Burling— Elgyem

(Intelligent, long-faced, shy, and has otherworldly talent. Also black and teal! Can’t you just see this cute little robot alien guy helping out in the boatyard levitating tools to people who need them?)

Nicolai Sehested— Lapras

(Sure, the Nessie parallels would make it easy to call Lapras Scottish, but as a part Ice-type with a head and neck based on the figureheads of Viking ships, she can also fit with Team Denmark and their original “Holger” livery.)

Diego Botin— Finizen

(This cute Mediterranean dolphin is from Poké-Spain [Paldea], which literally has a city based on Cadíz. The pattern on its side reminds me of ancient Minoan paintings of dolphins from Crete, so it would also be a great mascot for a SailGP Team Greece if there ever is one.)

Sebastién Schneiter— Snover

(A young abominable snowman with a head that looks like a mountain range, Snover fits with Team Switzerland’s boat being called “Eiger” and their “mountain peaks” symbol.)

Taylor Canfield— Rufflet

(A baby American Eagle! Is it going to evolve into a full-grown Braviary on his watch or will that take yet another change of trainer?)

And the unattached:

Jimmy Spithill- Infernape

(Who else would have a pet flaming punching monkey? Who else would box with his flaming punching monkey?)

Nathan Outteridge— Dewott

(It’s literally a samurai otter… for the guy who has all the jokes about his last name looking like “otter”… who started out as captain of Team Japan. Aren’t Pokémon great?)

#pokémon #SailGP #humor

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hoke53 · 2 years

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Reindeer cyclone.

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scooby-doo-exploration · 1 year

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FROM : rosacentifoliavariegata - Getting closer and closer - REINDEER have a CYCLONE defense strategy when faced with a perceived threat

#rosacentifoliavariegata #reindeers #wild animals #wildlife #gifs #animals & wild animals

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polikszena · 1 year

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Ficlet advent calendar - December 6

Title: Scholarship program Fandom: Gilmore Girls, Top Gun: Maverick Characters: Lorelai Gilmore, Luke Danes, Sookie St. James, Jackson Belleville, Taylor Doose, Beau “Cyclone” Simpson Relationships: Lorelai / Cyclone Word Count: 1273 Rating: Teen and up audiences Songs: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas Summary: It's time for the annual Santa Claus Beauty Pageant in Stars Hollow! With an outsider amongst the competitors: Lieutenant Beau Cyclone Simpson. Sets in 2003. Notes: Okay, so shipping Cyclone with Lorelai Gilmore came to my mind a few months ago, and despite how random this is, I grew quite fond of this ship, so I had to include them in this challenge as well. Also, this chapter tells the origins of the Santa figurine on Cyclone's desk (the one that appeared in Chapter 5). You can find some more stuff about them here. And just a warning: this one is written in first person which is something I rarely do when writing in English, but I wanted to experiment a little bit.

December 6 – Scholarship program

I have to admit, it was my idea. I just said it as a joke, but Miss Patty liked it so much that she convinced Taylor to include it in the town’s Christmas events. It wasn’t surprising because unlike in the baking contest, he would definitely stand a chance in a Santa Claus beauty pageant. For obvious reasons. He does look a little like Santa Claus, although the real Santa definitely wouldn’t make comments on what your fence looks like or make a scene in your diner every second day for not putting a dancing reindeer in your window. Anyway, Taylor won three times, which wasn’t hard keeping in mind that he was competing against Kirk or Andrew, just to name a few other contestants. None of them comes to my mind if I think of Santa Claus.

The Santa Beauty Pageant is like any other beauty pageant, except for the bathing suit part. They have to sort out presents instead, but the conversation and the performance parts are the same. Even with the world peace thing. Most Santa Clauses want world peace. Except for Taylor, who wants a doormat next to every fireplace, so when he goes down a chimney, he can wipe his feet so he wouldn’t get the whole living room dirty while going to the tree.

Luckily, this year, for the first time ever, I wasn’t part of the jury, because Jackson was one o the contestants and I didn’t want to be accused with bias. This way I could root for him with Sookie and make snarky comments on the other Santas. I also tried to convince Luke to come as well, but of course, he declined it.

“I don’t even know what’s the point of this,” he growled. “A Santa Beauty Pageant? They are not even beautiful!”

“Hey, this is not a beauty pageant! It’s a scholarship program!” I said, quoting Miss Congeniality, but of course, he didn’t notice that.

“Scholarship program? You mean that meet and greet tomorrow when they’ll have to listen to the kids asking for stuff they would never get?”

“Oh come on, Luke, you’re such a Grinch!”

“Why? I don’t want to steal Christmas; I just have better things to do than to watch the people who make a fool of themselves in every town event making a fool of themselves in a Santa costume,” and with that he went back to the kitchen and yelled at Caesar for something.

Well, it’s his loss.

“It’s starting, it’s starting!” Sookie exclaimed sitting next to me as Taylor, three-times winner and our host this year came on stage.

No wonder Sookie was so excited as this year her husband was also in the contest, and she kept telling me that he had a chance to win. We cheered for him when he came onstage wearing the red costume and I had to admit that he looked convincing in it. However, when he started to recite The Night Before Christmas using vegetables as puppets, I had to bite on my lips to hide my laughter, because he put so much effort in it, and I love Jackson with all my heart, but the whole thing was ridiculous. I mean, who uses eggplants as reindeer? I was so glad I wasn’t in the jury this year!

“Our next contestant is an outsider,” Taylor announced once we watched Putzie’s Little Drummer Boy and Kirk’s presentation on what to do when we get stuck in a chimney. “He doesn’t live here, but he is no stranger to this town. Please welcome Lieutenant Beau Simpson!”

I could feel my heart skip a beat as I heard the familiar name. What on earth he is doing here again? Whenever we had a town event, he appeared out of nowhere, as if there was something in this town that makes him return again and again. My stomach jumped when I saw him on the stage. He looked so great in the red suit that my brain filled with inappropriate thoughts. Which was quite weird as I don’t usually think that Santa is hot – I mean, he’s an old, bearded man in a red suit who gives presents to children. There’s nothing sexy about that. About Cyclone, on the other hand, there isn’t a thing that is not sexy. Even that red coat with a white faux-fur collar and the fake beard suited him well.

“Hello, Stars Hollow,” he said it into the microphone as he looked around the audience and then his gaze stopped on me. “It’s nice to be back.”

I couldn’t hide my smile as our eyes met. I was sure I would never see him again after Halloween, yet he was here.

“What are we going to see now?” Taylor asked.

“I’ve brought you a song,” he replied. “To wish you all a merry little Christmas.”

That was the first time I heard him sing, and even though I knew he used to do theater in the Academy, I was surprised how good his voice was. It was soft and deep as he sang Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. It felt like a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows. I shouldn’t tell it to Sookie who tried everything not to look impressed by the aviator as his husband was in the competition as well. However, I heard her sigh at the end of the song. Poor Jackson! After the song Cyclone had both the audience and the jury wrapped around his finger.

No wonder he won the pageant and got the Santa figurine as the prize. I couldn’t help but wonder how he would be doing on that meet and greet the next morning with the local kids.

When the people started leaving, I waited for him, and once he shook hands with everybody, he finally stepped to me.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” I admitted.

“Well, here I am,” he smiled at me under the fake beard. “I thought I’d surprise you, Junkie,” he added, using the call sign he and Luke gave me.

“You did,” I nodded. “Tell me, do you get a newsletter that tells you about the events in town? Because it seems to me you like it here.”

“In fact, I do,” he replied. “I mean, I do like it. You know, there is something here that makes me want to come back,” he told me, looking into my eyes in a way that it made me think that the ‘something’ is actually ‘someone’.

“I’m glad I wasn’t in the jury, otherwise I could’ve been accused of being biased,” I told him, trying to change the topic.

“So, you liked my performance,” he stated.

“You sing very well.”

“I want to celebrate somewhere,” he said. “Get a few drinks. Would you like to join?”

“Of course I would, just please, change first. Drinking with Santa feels a little weird. Even if he won a beauty pageant.”

“Hey! It’s not a beauty pageant! It’s a scholarship program!” he said.

I couldn’t help but laugh. I didn’t know he had seen Miss Congeniality, too. I looked up at him, and when our eyes met, I fell silent. My stomach began to tremble, and I had to take a deep breath to calm myself down a little. What has gotten into me?

“I have a question,” Cyclone said.

“What is it?”

“Can I kiss you here or shall we find a mistletoe?”

A grin broke out on my face as I pulled his beard down under his chin then I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.

Read it on AO3

#top gun #top gun maverick #gilmore girls #lorelai gilmore #beau cyclone simpson #beau simpson #lorelai x cyclone #luke danes #taylor doose #sookie st james #jackson belleville #otp: talk fast fly fast #my fics #ficlet advent calendar 2022 #christmas

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homestuck-human-generator · 7 months

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Name: Mw. Roby Cavallo Color: Canary Yellow #Ffef00 Symbol: book Strife Specibus: needlekind Handle: transGentleman Animal: reindeer Pronouns: he/him Age: 24 Birthday: 16th day of the year Sexuality: Fond Of No One Interests: bouldering and jet-skiing Dream Moon: prospit Classpect: Knight of Space Land: Land of Cyclones and Crypts, a defeated place, with successful Pine snake consorts. It is a place full of lazy savanas and brains. Rhea lurks in this land's windchimes. Instrument: virginal

#IFTTT #homestuck #oc generator #homestuck kid

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stirlingmoss · 1 year

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Fig Tree

This afternoon, as storm clouds descended over London and the world turned the colour of melancholy, Kostas Kazantzakis buried me in the garden. In the back garden, that is. Normally I liked it here, among the lush camellias, sweetly fragrant honeysuckles and witch hazels with their spidery flowers, but this was no normal day. I tried to cheer up and see the bright side of things. Not that it helped. I was nervous, filled with apprehension. I had never been buried before.

Kostas had been toiling outside in the cold since the early hours. A light sheen of sweat had formed on his brow and it glistened every time he forced the steel edge of the spade into solid earth. Behind him extended the shadows of the wooden trellises that in summer were covered with climbing roses and clematis vines, but were now no more than a see-through barrier separating our garden from the neighbour’s terrace. Slowly accumulating beside his leather boots, alongside the silvery trail left by a snail, was a pile of soil, clammy and crumbling to the touch. His breath clouded in front of his face, his shoulders were taut inside his navy parka – the one he had bought from a vintage shop on Portobello Road – and his knuckles were red and raw, slightly bleeding, but he didn’t seem to notice.

I was cold and, though I did not want to admit it to myself, frightened. I wished I could have shared my worries with him. But even if I could have spoken, he was too distracted to hear me, absorbed in his own thoughts as he kept digging without so much as a glance in my direction. When he was done, he would put the spade aside, look at me with those sage-green eyes that I knew had seen things both pleasant and painful, and push me down into the hollow ground.

Only days to Christmas, and all around the neighbourhood sparkled fairy lights and metallic tinsels. Inflatable Santas and reindeer with plastic smiles. Bright, blinking garlands dangled from shop awnings and stars twinkled in house windows, offering furtive peeks into other people’s lives, which always seemed less complicated somehow, more exciting – happier. Inside the hedge a whitethroat began to sing – swift, scratchy notes. I wondered what a North African warbler was doing in our garden at this time of the year. Why hadn’t it left for warmer places with all the others that must now be on their way south, and who, if they made a slight change in their flight path, might just as well head towards Cyprus and visit my motherland.

I knew they got lost occasionally, passerine birds. Rarely, yet it happened. And at times they just could not make the journey any more, year in year out, the same but never the same, miles of emptiness rolling out in all directions, and so they stayed, even though it meant hunger and cold and, too often, death.

It had been a long winter already. So unlike last year’s mild weather, with its overcast skies, scattered showers, muddy tracks, a cascade of gloom and grey. Nothing out of the ordinary for dear old England. But this year, since early autumn, the climate had been erratic. At night we heard the howling of the gale and it brought to mind things untamed and unbidden, things within each of us that we were not yet ready to face, let alone comprehend. Many mornings when we woke up, we found the roads glazed with ice and blades of grass stiffened like shards of emerald. There were thousands of homeless people sleeping rough on the streets of London and not enough shelters for even a quarter of them.

Tonight was set to be the coldest night of the year so far. Already the air, as if composed of splinters of glass, pierced everything it touched. That is why Kostas was rushing, bent on completing his task before the ground turned to stone.

Storm Hera – that’s what they had called the impending cyclone. Not George or Olivia or Charlie or Matilda this time, but a mythological name. They said it was going to be the worst in centuries – worse than the Great Storm of 1703, which had torn the tiles from rooftops, stripped ladies of their whalebone corsets, gentlemen of their powdered wigs, and beggars of the rags on their backs; wrecked timber-framed mansions and mud-built slums alike; smashed sailing ships as if they were paper boats and blown all the sewage floating down the Thames on to the riverbanks.

Stories, perhaps, but I believed in them. Just as I believed in legends, and the underlying truths they tried to convey.

I told myself that if everything went according to plan, I would only be buried for three months, maybe even less. When the daffodils bloomed along the footpaths and the bluebells carpeted the woods, and the whole of nature was animated again, I would be unburied. Bolt upright and wide awake. But, hard as I tried, I could not hold on to that sliver of hope while the winter, fierce and unrelenting, felt as if it were here to stay. I had never been good at optimism anyway. It must have been in my DNA. I was descended from a long line of pessimists. So I did what I often did: I began to imagine all the ways in which things could go wrong. What if this year spring did not arrive and I remained under the earth – forever? Or what if spring did make an appearance at long last, but Kostas Kazantzakis forgot to dig me up?

A gust of wind swept past, cutting into me like a serrated knife. Kostas must have noticed for he stopped digging. ‘Look at you! You’re freezing, poor thing.’

He cared about me, always had. In the past, whenever the weather turned frigid, he took precautions to keep me alive. I remember one chilly afternoon in January he set up windbreaks all around me and wrapped me with layer upon layer of burlap to reduce moisture loss. Another time he covered me with mulch. He placed heat lamps in the garden to provide warmth throughout the night and, most crucially, before the crack of dawn, the darkest hour of the day and often the coldest. That is when most of us fall into a sleep we never wake up from – the homeless on the streets, and

us …

… fig trees. I am a Ficus carica, known as the edible common fig, though I can assure you there’s nothing common about me. I am a proud member of the great mulberry family of Moraceae from the kingdom of Plantae. Originating in Asia Minor, I can be found across a vast geography from California to Portugal and Lebanon, from the shores of the Black Sea to the hills of Afghanistan and the valleys of India.

Burying fig trees in trenches underground during the harshest winters and unearthing them in spring is a curious if well-established tradition. Italians settled in sub-zero towns in America and Canada are familiar with it. So are Spaniards, Portuguese, Maltese, Greeks, Lebanese, Egyptians, Tunisians, Moroccans, Algerians, Israelis, Palestinians, Iranians, Kurds, Turks, Jordanians, Syrians, Sephardic Jews … and us Cypriots.

Maybe not the young so much these days, but the elderly are no stranger to the custom. The ones who first migrated from the milder climes of the Mediterranean to the blustery cities and conurbations across the West. The ones who, after all these years, still dream up ingenious ways to smuggle across borders their favourite smelly cheese, smoked pastrami, stuffed sheep intestines, frozen manti, homemade tahini, carob syrup, karidaki glyko, cow stomach soup, spleen sausage, tuna eyeballs, rams’ testicles … even though they might, if only they searched, find at least some of these delicacies in the ‘international food’ section of supermarkets in their adopted countries. But they would claim it is not the same taste.

First-generation immigrants are a species all their own. They wear a lot of beige, grey or brown. Colours that do not stand out. Colours that whisper, never shout. There is a tendency to formality in their mannerisms, a wish to be treated with dignity. They move with a slight ungainliness, not quite at ease in their surroundings. Both eternally grateful for the chances life has given them and scarred by what it has snatched away, always out of place, separated from others by some unspoken experience, like survivors of a car accident.

First-generation immigrants talk to their trees all the time – when there are no other people nearby, that is. They confide in us, describing their dreams and aspirations, including those they have left behind, like wisps of wool caught on barbed wire during fence crossings. But for the most part, they simply enjoy our company, chatting to us as though to old, long missed friends. They are caring and tender towards their plants, especially those they have brought along with them from lost motherlands. They know, deep within, that when you save a fig tree from a storm, it is someone’s memory you are saving.

#P44 #The Island of Missing Trees: Fig Tree #Elif Shafak

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