Trapping Notes. Part Six.

Francesca Inspyx. 71.206.491.610

The Global Record.        Friday, October 30, 2128

city bird 

The leaves in Central Park ~ that sole bastion of a natural world among hundreds of miles of concrete ~ are falling. They are gathering in knee-high amber drifts along the sides of the paths. This beautiful time of the year always makes me feel tearful.

Is it because the trees are to be robbed of their glorious raiment?

Is it because nature appears to be laid to waste?

Or is it more likely because this dame does not know how many more times she will be fit enough to come out and see those leaves return?

I am fully aware that this is sentimental clap-trap, and that we are all supposed to have been educated beyond such things. But indulge an old bird.


The streets, the wonderful streets of my native city, continue to be safe. I can wander about, unmolested by weapon of any kind, whither I wish. Children have reappeared. Imagine! Skipping on the sidewalks. Pale little urchins jumping rope now, and rolling hoops. Even the city fowl linger to peck at discarded crumbs on the kerbs. Busmen laugh. Yes, laugh! People are conversing on the Tube. There is a hum. The splendid natural throb of that wonderful instrument ~ the human voice. The unmatched thrill of sound.

It is as if our memories have been snatched from us and replaced by those from a deeper cortex. From a time before we had raised buildings to bruise the sky. I can almost picture the rugged little ponies that once raced across these plains to the distant ocean. The tangle of corn and beans in sun-warmed nooks.


It has finally been announced ~ officially ~ that every living male has by now experienced at least one full cycle of Dissolution and Rememberment. Even those tribes that have managed to sustain themselves in relative isolation have reported the condition, (although of course such tribes are few and far between.) Thus far, no definitive conclusion has been reached as to the cause of the condition, even though I have no doubt that the research is exhaustive. It would appear that a firm cycle has been established with all males experiencing the Dissolution at roughly the same time, and likewise simultaneously undergoing the Rememberment.


Theories abound, of course. Everyone who lays claim to a bench in Central Park, or a stool in my local coffee house, has their own strongly-held view as to what is the cause. Viral, spores, water-borne, air-borne, genetic, terrorist, divine intervention, bio-electrical, electro-magnetic, telepathic, soma-psychotic, psycho-somatic, placebic, cosmic interruption. My ears have been quite buzzing. None has been settled upon officially, or at least we, the people, have not been appraised.


Never Mind! Whatever has led to this strange androgynous phenomenon, has not, in this writer’s opinion, been in any way detrimental to the species as a whole. Quite the contrary, in fact!


I am off out to the Park now, to feed grain to the gulls. Could I possibly have hoped for such an outing less than one short month ago? 


Francesca Inspx. 71.206.491.610

First Violin (Maestro)

New York Philharmonic Orchestra

Daniel Xonedu 71.206.373.672 is on temporary leave.


Generally just Being. Nothing in particular, no claims to fame. I like gardening and the sea, nature, art in all forms from poetry to films and everything in between, and being in the company of my family.

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