#Dancehall Village

[curryvillain]

"Dancehall Week" To Promote More Diversity & Celebrate Culture In 2025

As the calendar edges closer to February 23 – March 2, 2025, the Dancehall Week committee is excited to announce an expanded and enriched lineup for this year’s festivities in Kingston, Jamaica. Following last year’s inaugural success, Dancehall Week 2025 is set to offer a broader array of activities that celebrate and elevate the cultural impact of Dancehall. This year, beyond electrifying…

[revivemyreverie]

“Watch yourself. After all, you may be decent at dancing, but your foul attitude could be easily burnt away.”

Twisted from: The Evil Queen’s Red Iron Shoes

Coppelia Waltz

コッペリア・ウォールス

CV: ???

Technical Info.

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Demisexual

Birthday: 05/25

Age: 18

Height: 5’7 (170)

Hair Color: Charcoal Black

Eye Color: River Grey

Hand Pref.: Left

Homeland: City of Flowers

College Info.

Year: 1st

Class: 1B Set 27

Club: Track and Field

Favorite Subject: Art

Other.

Hobby: Flower Arrangement

Likes: Weddings

Dislikes: Forgiving others

Favorite Food: French Toast

Hated Food: Sunflower Seeds

Specialty: Ballet

UM: Iron Vengeance

The lower part of your body becomes bound to an unseeable fire. Until your begging finds value, you’ll dance in a hot hell forever.

The Dancing Plague

There was once a little girl, in a little village, who was born with no feet. Despite her obvious disability, she still dreamed of dancing in front of a large crowd, with flowers being thrown at her graceful figure. The other ballerinas in her class, however, thought differently.

“All you do is sit on your wheelchair without any legs to stand on, and that’s where you’ll be until you die of old age!” They’d pick on her without fail. “Hurry and give up, us real ballerinas need no stumpy girls like you!”

Brought to tears by their cruelty, the little girl fled the studio and sped into the woods. She wheeled on the mossy grass for hours and hours, losing herself in both the trees and her tears. Suddenly, the girl heard a tune like no other, and drew closer to the sound. That is when she saw it—a fairy dance.

Countless humans danced hand-in-hand, even as their feet were dyed red. But the faeries, oh the faeries, how gracefully they danced! Like flowers in the wind, they scattered and reformed and flew so freely!

It was only until one noticed the child that the music stopped, and they gathered around. And yet, the girl was not met with hostility.

“What is a mortal so young doing in the woods?” One asked.

She cried out her woes to the faeries, describing how terrible the other students were, and how she just wanted to learn to dance. The fae, finding sympathy for the little human, quickly thought up a way to fix her problem.

They lifted her from her wheelchair and flew her to their lair. On the first night of her visit, the ballerina was granted a pair of silver slippers, able to lift her off the ground. She cried and cried that night, so joyous to finally dance.

On the second night, the faeries taught her their peculiar dance. Like the humans she saw in the circle, she twirled and jumped without end. But unlike their tired bodies, she proved herself relentless, refusing to stop unless her steps matched her teachers’. Soon enough, she was dancing just as gracefully.

On the 3rd and final night, the fae taught her a magic spell. Still being the tricksters they always were, they giggled and snickered as they whispered an incantation in her ear.

“But why do I need such a spell?” She curiously asked.

“To punish those naughty children,” one fae answered, “and to give you a sense of retribution.”

So on that night, when she left the forest and came back to the dancehall, she whispered out that little spell, cursing her classmates to a fiery pain. Without any dancers to take their spot, the adults dragged the little girl from her seat and onto the stage.

There, with her classmates wailing backstage as their feet burned the same bloody red as the humans in the forest, the little girl danced. Her iron shoes glistened on the stage, as the crowd stared in awe at her beautiful performance. And even past the thundering applause of the audience, and flowers being thrown to her feet, the little girl could only think of one thing—

That her dream finally came true.

❤️‍🔥…

“Do you have any final thoughts, Miss Waltz?” The reporter pointed the mic in her face, grinning.

The child thought, before looking up to her horrified mother, who had built her metal shoes herself. Then, to her sickened upperclassmen, who taught her the magic of vengeance and the dance that wowed the crowd.

Smiling, she turned back to the camera, concerned parents rushing behind her.

“I’d just like to thank everyone who supported me, and helped me achieve my dream! This really feels like a fairytale come true!”

[sweetdreamsjeff]

An introduction to Jeff Buckley: "I would listen to anything: The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Joni Mitchell, Judy Garland, Robert Johnson, Thelonious Monk, Bartk, Mahler. And I asked a lot of questions".

By Neil Crossley published October 17, 2023

From his soaring, unbridled falsetto to his sonic artistry, Jeff Buckley defied conventions and left a catalogue of songs that is timeless and unique

On the night of 29 May, 1997, six weeks shy of his 31st birthday, Jeff Buckley waded fully clothed into a channel of the Mississippi River in Memphis. He was carefully watched from the bank by his roadie, who had warned him repeatedly about the perilous currents. The roadie looked away momentarily to remove a boombox from the water's edge and when he looked back, Buckley had disappeared. Six days later, on 4 June, Buckley's body was discovered floating near the city's famed Beale Street area, by a passenger on a riverboat called the American Queen.

In the days and weeks that followed, all manner of theories were put forward. Had Buckley ignored his roadie's warnings and been drunk or stoned when he went into the water? Had the intense pressure of producing a second album as sublime as his first simply been too much? The coroner concluded it was accidental drowning but the theories continued. Whatever the truth, it was a tragic end for an artist who clearly had a great deal left to give.

Jeffrey Scott Buckley was born in Orange County, California in 1966 and was the result of a short-lived relationship between cult folk singer-songwriter Tim Buckley and Mary Gulbert. From the age of four, Jeff was raised by Gulbert and his stepfather, Ron Moorhead.

"My mum would play piano and cello all the time and my stepdad had great musical taste," recalled Buckley. "I would listen to anything: The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Joni Mitchell, Judy Garland, Robert Johnson, Thelonious Monk, Bartk, Mahler. And I asked a lot of questions. Learning about music seemed effortless. I guess I must have had natural abilities. Looking back, it felt like instinct."

At five he picked up his grandmother's guitar and learnt to play it. By 13, he wrote his first song about a break-up with a girl. After graduating from high school, he studied at the Los Angeles Musicians' Institute and played in various rock and reggae bands, including a stint with dancehall reggae artist Shinehead. In 1990, he moved to New York and formed the band Gods And Monsters, a hip yet short-lived outfit.

Buckley began a solo career as a singer-songwriter, playing a borrowed Telecaster, in clubs and coffee houses in New York's East Village and building up a considerable following among audiences, critics and fellow musicians.

He was snapped up by Columbia Records and released the Live At Sin-é EP in November 1993. The EP was well received but the response was nothing compared to the rave reviews bestowed on his full-length debut album Grace, released in 1994. Unlike the EP, Buckley recorded the album with a full band, and collaborated on writing with guitarists Gary Lucas and Michael Tighe, which gave his sound fresh dynamics and textures.

It was a bold and stunning record, full of sweeping choruses and powerful arrangements. Buckley's brand of eclectic folk was distinctive and unique. As Stephen Thomas Erlewine wrote in a review for AllMusic, "Grace sounds like a Led Zeppelin album written by an ambitious folkie with a fondness for lounge jazz".

In 1998, a collection of unreleased recordings called Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk, was released posthumously. Two live albums appeared in 2000 and 2001, and other compilations and live albums were released.

As always when artists die young, speculation is rife about what might have been - the stellar works they may well have gone on to create. But in his short life, Jeff Buckley forged a collection of songs that enshrined him as an astonishingly innovative and unique talent.

1. Grace - Grace (1994)

There's an unbridled feel to this title track, which sets the tone for the album with its soaring vocals, intricate guitar patterns and strident, cathartic feel. At its heart, the song is a celebration of life and Buckley's vocals are emotive and intense as he conveys a sense of wonder for the beauty of the natural world. "There's the moon asking to stay / Long enough for the clouds to fly me away / Oh, it's my time coming / I'm not afraid / Afraid to die".

Vocally and instrumentally, it's reminiscent of Radiohead, which is no great surprise as Buckley was an inspiration for Thom Yorke. As Yorke's friend Dougie Payne of Travis told Far Out magazine: "When [Radiohead] were recording Fake Plastic Trees, they were having trouble with it, and they couldn't get it to work. So, they went out to see Jeff Buckley play on the tour when it was just him and his electric guitar."

The band were bowled over by Buckley's performance. "Radiohead went back to the studio and Thom completely changed the way that he was singing and used that falsetto. You can kind of see the comparisons now. And that says a lot for how inspiring the show was."

Much of the track's strength comes from the live performance in the studio. This is a band at the top of its game, honed by relentless touring and capable of taking the music to real heights. This tight unit includes the formidable talents of co-writer Gary Lucas [a guitarist from Captain Beefheart's band whose instrumental Rise Up To Be formed the basis for Grace], Danish-American bassist Mick Grondahl and drummer Matt Johnson. By the end of the track, Buckley is screaming out the high notes as the whole sonic bombast builds towards a resolution.

2. Lover You Should've Come Over - Grace (1994)

The pain and longing of unrequited love is the focus of this hauntingly beautiful ballad written with Gary Lucas, which is built around Buckley's intricate fingerpicking. There's a dreamy, melancholic feel to the track, which features a sublime string arrangement from Karl Hans Berger.

Buckley's performance here is raw and intimate and the song really showcases the emotive feel of his vocals. It has become one of his most enduring and beloved compositions.

"It's never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder / It's never over, all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her / It's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter / It's never over, she's the tear that hangs inside my soul forever."

The song runs to almost seven minutes, but it's so entrancing that you barely notice. Every syllable from Buckley sounds heartfelt and true. As ever, the chords and melodies veer to the unexpected. From the mournful organ in the intro through to the squalling jagged guitar and drum flams at the outro, this is perfection.

3. Last Goodbye - Grace (1994)

The second single from the album, after the title track, and a haunting ballad that became a belated hit in 1995. Here, Buckley mourns the death of a relationship and focuses on the pain of letting go. The chorus is soaring and anthemic, while tasteful piano and string parts add depth and texture to the song.

Even from his early solo coffee house gigs, Buckley chose to play an electric rather than an acoustic, a decision that added to his distinctively different style. Buckley mainly played a borrowed 1983 Fender Telecaster and a Rickenbacker 360/12, but also used several other guitars, including a black Gibson Les Paul Custom and a 1967 Guild F-50 acoustic. When on tour with his band, he used Fender amps for a clean sound and Mesa Boogie amps for overdriven tones.

4. Mojo Pin - Grace (1994)

Another song written with Gary Lucas (his instrumental is called And You Will) and dating back to the Live at Sin-é EP, the opening track from Grace and one that showcases his eclectic blend of folk, rock and soul.

High guitar note swells and harmonics enhance the beautifully haunting intro before Buckly's plaintive falsetto enters the mix. Sparse, fingerpicked guitar follows, forming a warm backdrop for the first few vocal lines: "I'm lying in my bed / The blanket is warm / This body will never be safe from harm / Still feel your hair, black ribbons of coal".

The lyrical premise of the song focuses on the 'mojo pin' in question being pulled from his heart, leaving him hurt and exposed. It's a restrained, tasteful arrangement, with smatterings of toms, bass and cyclical guitar picking. The whole ensemble continues to ebb and flow while Buckley's warm vocal falsetto glides and meanders across the whole.

5. Hallelujah - Grace (1994)

Written by Leonard Cohen and released on his 1984 album Various Positions, this track has been covered by artists such as John Cale, Rufus Wainwright, KD Laing, Myles Kennedy (with Jeff's Telecaster) and Regina Spektor. But it was Jeff Buckley's version that has really seared itself into the global consciousness.

It's a hauntingly beautiful cover, impeccably realised by Buckley. In his hands, the song attains a real fluidity, ebbing and flowing, quickening and slowing. Much of its power lies in its minimalism and sparsity. The only accompaniment is Buckley's guitar - his Telecaster - and this really enhances his breathtakingly emotive delivery.

His version has been perceived as sexual and Buckley once said it was "a hallelujah to the orgasm". But at its core the song is a soulful exploration of faith, love and what it means to be human. As April Johnson wrote in Singersroom.com in 2023, "Buckley's voice is both powerful and vulnerable, conveying a sense of longing and spiritual yearning that is both moving and inspirational."

Hallelujah is one of Buckley's most iconic and enduring tracks and has become a classic song in its own right. For many, it is the definitive version of Cohen's bitter lament about love and loss.

* "Chords are depictions of emotions" - 5 Joni Mitchell songs that showcase her guitar and songwriting genius

[pupa-cinema]

Village Man's Store - ミラーボール(Mirrorball) - Lyrics English Translation

クライムーン 白塗りベンチは Cry moon, a bench painted white 君の涙で ぐしゃぐしゃ座れない It’s soaked in your tears, I can’t sit on it 回るムーン 逃げ出した先の Orbiting moon, I ran away to a dancehall ダンスホールで フロアと汗を照らす Where you lit up the floor, and everyone’s sweat both うねるギター長い髪の The twanging guitar of that girl with the long hair あの娘古いロック弾いて As she plays old rock songs それに合わせクルクルクル回る I spin round and round to her music 星を生んで乱反射するってこと Creating stars and diffusing 照らせ僕の歪んだ顔を Light me up, me and my twisted face 鳴らした弦は夜に溶けていく The strummed strings melt into the night だからねえ、悲しくて泣き出しそう That’s exactly why, I’m so sad I could cry それでも君は回っているだろう Yet nevertheless you keep orbiting クライムーン Cry moon クライムーン セメントの柱 Cry moon, cement pillars 酸の涙で 爛れていくよ Fall apart from your acid tears 回るムーン みんな知ってる Orbiting moon, everyone knows 全部偽物さ ここらにある星も That it’s all fake, even the stars around here うねるギター長い髪の The twanging guitar of that girl with the long hair あの娘古いロック弾いて As she plays old rock songs それに合わせクルクルクル回る We spin round and round to her music 星をもっともっと僕に当てて Let the stars shine on me more and more

照らせ僕の歪んだ顔を Light me up, me and my twisted face 鳴らした弦は夜に溶けていく The strummed strings melt into the night だからね悲しくて泣き出しそう That’s why, I’m so sad I could cry ワルツは歪んで不協和音さ My waltz is twisted and out of tune 防音壁の中は 少し息が詰まるね Within soundproof walls, it’s a bit hard to breathe isn’t it 首を掻っ切って連れ去ってやるよ I’ll slice your neck off and whisk you away だから、だからねえ That’s why, that’s exactly why 惰眠と揺れて揺れて呼吸を止めたんだ Frittering the time, rocking back and forth, until we stop breathing 照らせ照らせ全ての夜を Light it up, light it up, every night 鳴らした弦で反射させて Reflect off those strummed strings だからねえ、悲しくて泣き出しそう That’s why, I’m so sad I could cry ワルツは響く いつまでも Our waltz rings out, forever クライムーン 回るムーン Cry moon, orbiting moon

[kaknewsdotcom]

Stonebwoy Thrills Parisian Crowd At World Music Day Celebration!

Ghanaian music sensation Stonebwoy, also known as 1GAD, delivered an electrifying performance at the World Music Day celebration in Paris, France. The event, powered by Daily Paper, Spiritual Gangsta, and Village Macé, saw Stonebwoy take the stage at Rue Jean Macé, Paris, and mesmerize the audience with his unique blend of Afro-Dancehall sounds. With his signature energy and charisma, Stonebwoy…

[mygenerationtriomf]

MG vol57 80s Alternative

Playlist;

Ryuichi Sakamoto feat Iggy pop    Risky

David Bowie               Ashes to ashes                                              

Nick Nicely                 DCT Dreams

Cabaret Voltaire         Here to go

Depeche Mode          Leave in Silence                           

New Order��                Bizarre love triangle  

Kraftwerk                   Der telefon anruf

Yazoo                          Situation

Spandau Ballet           To cut a long story short

Talking Heads             Once in a lifetime (live)

Wang Chung               Dancehall days                            

New Music                 This world of water

Die Doraus & die Marinas            Fred vom Jupiter

Lloyd cole and the commotions   Perfect Skin

Siouxsie and the Banshees     Christine                         

The Smiths  Stop me if you think you’ve heard this one before                         

The Fixx                      Red Skies

Deacon  Blue              Real gone kid

The sugarcubes          Deus         

The B52’s                   Planet claire

) Nasmak                         Take a look   

) Skids                              Goodbye Civilian

) DAF                               Als Wär’s das letzte mal

) Pere Ubu                       The Modern dance

) Palais Schaumburg       Qiuet Village

) The Cure                       The Walk

) Gary  Numan                 We are glass               

) Peter Godwin                Images of heaven

) Talk Talk                        Give it up           

) The Undertones            Julie Ocean

[thechanelmuse]

My Top Albums/EPs of 2023

It's that time.

It's a tradition of mine to post my end-of-the-year music list. I used to get music questions + recommendations all the time. This goes back to the days of the Hypster Music Player we used to have on our pages (remember those lol) before the DMCA roll out.

As a heads up, I'm a violinist with a BFA in Music and Audio Production. I'm a timbre listener first 🤷🏽‍♀️. No surprise there. Some people listen to music for the lyrics first, melody first, a catchy hook first, etc. I'm a tone color and texture person as it relates to vocality, instrumentation, and the arrangement/combination of frequencies altogether. (For more on that and how you can confirm/discover what kind of listener you are, this book, which I reviewed, is a go-to.)

Here's my list of albums you may know and some that'll be your first introduction. I had a number of honorable mentions, but this is already long enough 🙃 lol. Enjoy!

JAZZ

Adam Blackstone - Legacy: The Instrumental Jawn and The Legacy Experience Live (2 albums)

André 3000 - New Blue Sun

Brandee Younger - Brand New Life

Braxton Cook - Who Are You When No One is Watching?

Brian Blade & The Fellowship Band - Kings Highway

Christian McBride - Prime

Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah - Bark Out Thunder Roar Out Lightning

Fred Hersch & Esperanza Spalding - Alive At The Village Vanguard

Jason Moran - From the Dancehall to the Battlefield

Jeremy Pelt - The Art of Intimacy, Vol. 2: His Muse

Jonathan Blake - Passage

Joshua Redman - where are we

Meshell Ndegeocello - The Omnichord Real Book

New Breed Brass Band - Made in New Orleans

Roy Hargrove - The Love Suite: In Mahogany

Samara Joy - Linger A While (Deluxe Edition)

Theo Croker, Ego Ella May & D'LEAU - BY THE WAY

SOUL/BLUES (ROCK)

Baby Rose - Through and Through

Christone "Kingfish" Ingram - Live in London

Cleo Sol - Gold

Cory Henry - Live at the Piano

Danielle Ponder - Some of Us Are Brave (Deluxe)

Durand Jones - Wait Til I Get Over

Gabriels - Angels & Queens (Deluxe)

Ghost Hounds - First Last Time

Junior Wells & Buddy Guy - Live in Hiroshima 1975

Nina Simone - You've Got To Learn (Live)

October London - The Rebirth of Marvin

Various Artists - Written in the Soul: The Stax Songwriter Demos 👈🏾 7+ hours of goodness 🤌🏾

Wyn Starks w/ Fisk Jubilee Singers - At the End of the River - EP

GOSPEL

Anthony Brown & group therAPY - Affirmations

Jekalyn Carr - The Living Word

Jonathan McReynolds - My Truth

Kirk Franklin - Father’s Day

Tamela Mann - Overcomer (Deluxe) — 2022 album I missed

Tye Tribbett - All Things New (Live In Orlando)

The Walls Group - Four Walls

COUNTRY

Caitlyn Smith - High & Low

Chapel Hart - Glory Days ("Redneck Fairytale" track gotta go tho cuz chile what 🙃)

Chris Stapleton - Higher

Colbie Caillat - Along the Way

Dalton Dover - Never Giving Up On That

Darius Rucker - Carolyn's Boy

Ingrid Andress - Good Person (Deluxe)

Kelsea Ballerina - Rolling Up the Welcome Mat (For Good)

Luke Combs - Gettin' Old

Megan Moroney - Lucky (Deluxe)

Taylor Swift - Speak Now (Taylor's Version)

The War and Treaty - Lover's Game

FOLK/AMERICANA

Billie Marten - Drop Cherries

Eva Cassidy - I Can Only Be Me

Kara Jackson - Why Does the Earth Give Us People to Love?

Kina Grannis & Imaginary Future - I Found You

Mitski - The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We

Noah Kahan - Stick Season (We'll All Be Here Forever)

Sunny War - Anarchist Gospel

HOLIDAY

Brandy - Christmas with Brandy

Gregory Porter - Christmas Wish

Samara Joy - A Joyful Holiday

BLENDED GENRES

chlothegod - Nearly Straight

Jamila Woods - Water Made Us

Kali Uchis - Red Moon in Venus

Kelela - Raven

L'Rain - I Killed Your Dog

Little Dragon - Slugs of Love

Niia - Bobby Deerfield

Prince & The New Power Generation - Diamonds and Pearls (Super Deluxe Edition) 👈🏾 7+ hours of goodness 🤌🏽

Prince & The New Power Generation - Live at Glam Slam

Sampha - Lahai

Various Artists - Birthright - A Black Roots Music Compendium

R&B

Aliah Sheffield - These Songs Are For Anyone Sick of Earth

Cleo Sol - Heaven

Coco Jones - What I Didn't Tell You (Deluxe)

Emily King - Special Occasion

Kenyon - The R&B You Love

Kyra - as things grow

Leon Thomas - Electric Dusk

Madison McFerrin - I Hope You Can Forgive Me

PJ Morton - Watch the Sun Live: The Mansion Sessions

The Shindellas - Shindo

Terrace Martin & Ashley Isley - I Left My Heart In Ladera

Victoria Monét - Jaguar II

RAP

Black Thought and El Michels Affair - Glorious Game

BLK ODYSSY - DIAMONDS & FREAKS

Duckwrth - Chrome Bull DLX

Killer Mike - MICHAEL

Mick Jenkins - The Patience

Nas - Magic 2

Nas - Magic 3

Nick Grant - SUNDAY DINNER

Noname - Sundial

Oddisee - To What End

Tyler the Creator - CALL ME IF YOU GET LOST: The Estate Sale

POP

Birdy - Portraits

Caroline Polachek - Desire, I Want to Turn Into You

Ellie Goulding - Higher Than Heaven (Deluxe)

Hozier - Unreal Unearth

The Japanese House - In the End It Always Does

Jessie Ware - That! Feels Good!

Kelly Clarkson - chemistry (Deluxe)

Madison Beer - Silence Between Songs

Olivia Rodrigo - GUTS

Paramore - This Is Why

P!nk - Trustfall

Sabrina Carpenter - emails i can't send fwd:

Taylor Swift - 1989 (Taylor’s Version)

ANNIVERSARY EDITIONS

HAIM - Days Are Gone (10th Anniversary Edition)

Janet Jackson - Discipline (Deluxe Edition)

Luther Vandross - Live at City Music Hall (Expanded 20th Anniversary Edition)

Mariah Carey - Music Box: 30th Anniversary Edition

[ourcherokeeinniowa]

Discovering the Heartland: 10 Must-See Attractions in Iowa

Nestled in the heart of the American Midwest, Iowa boasts a diverse landscape and a rich cultural heritage that beckons travelers to explore its unique attractions. From scenic outdoor wonders to captivating historical sites, Iowa offers a wealth of experiences for visitors of all interests. In this article, we'll take a closer look at 10 must-see attractions that showcase the beauty and charm of the Hawkeye State.

Effigy Mounds National Monument:

Situated along the bluffs of the Mississippi River, the Effigy Mounds National Monument is a remarkable archaeological site preserving more than 200 prehistoric mounds, many of which are shaped like animals. These ancient earthworks provide a fascinating glimpse into the Native American cultures that once thrived in the region.

Field of Dreams Movie Site:

For fans of the iconic film "Field of Dreams," a visit to the movie site near Dyersville is a must. The picturesque baseball field surrounded by cornfields has become a symbol of timeless Americana. Visitors can play catch on the field or simply relish in the nostalgia of this cinematic gem.

Maquoketa Caves State Park:

Adventure seekers will find Maquoketa Caves State Park to be a haven of natural wonders. With more than a dozen caves to explore, including Dancehall Cave and Wye Cave, this park offers a thrilling underground experience. The scenic trails and limestone formations add to the allure of this captivating destination.

Amana Colonies:

Immerse yourself in Iowa's unique communal history by visiting the Amana Colonies. Founded in the 19th century by German Pietists, these seven villages showcase well-preserved architecture, traditional craftsmanship, and a distinct way of life. Visitors can explore shops, restaurants, and museums that celebrate the Amana heritage.

Pikes Peak State Park:

Overlooking the confluence of the Wisconsin and Mississippi Rivers, Pikes Peak State Park offers breathtaking panoramic views. Hiking trails wind through lush forests, leading to the impressive Bridal Veil Falls. The park is a haven for nature lovers, birdwatchers, and those seeking a serene escape.

John Wayne Birthplace Museum:

Pay homage to an American icon at the John Wayne Birthplace Museum in Winterset. This museum honors the life and career of the legendary actor John Wayne, showcasing memorabilia, film artifacts, and personal belongings. It's a must-visit for fans of "The Duke" and film enthusiasts alike.

The Iowa State Capitol:

Des Moines, the capital of Iowa, is home to the majestic Iowa State Capitol. This architectural masterpiece boasts a stunning dome and intricate interior details. Guided tours provide insight into the state's legislative history, and visitors can marvel at the beautiful grounds surrounding the Capitol.

Blank Park Zoo:

Animal enthusiasts of all ages will enjoy a visit to Blank Park Zoo in Des Moines. Home to a diverse array of wildlife, including giraffes, lions, and red pandas, the zoo offers educational exhibits and engaging activities. It's a perfect destination for families and those interested in conservation efforts.

Herbert Hoover National Historic Site:

Learn about the life of the 31st President of the United States at the Herbert Hoover National Historic Site in West Branch. The site includes Hoover's birthplace, his childhood home, and the Presidential Library and Museum. Explore the grounds to gain insight into this influential figure's formative years.

The Great River Road:

Embark on a scenic road trip along the Great River Road, which follows the course of the Mississippi River. This picturesque drive takes travelers through charming river towns, historic sites, and offers breathtaking vistas of the mighty Mississippi. It's an ideal route for those seeking a leisurely and visually stunning journey.

Conclusion:

Motels near cherokee iowa, reveals itself as a treasure trove of attractions that cater to a wide range of interests. From the serene beauty of state parks to the cultural richness of historic sites, the Hawkeye State invites visitors to delve into its diverse landscapes and stories. Whether you're a nature enthusiast, history buff, or simply in search of unique experiences, Iowa's must-see attractions promise a memorable journey through the heartland of America.

[ghanashowbizonline]

GH Trends - I’m not a member of the NPP; I just admire President Akufo-Addo policies – Samini

Reggae and Dancehall star Samini revealed that he supported President Nana Akufo-Addo and the NPP in the 2020 general elections because he admires the President’s policies. He clarified that he is not a member of the NPP but was drawn to policies like Free SHS, One District One Factory, and One Village One Dam. Samini also shared that he had a passion for athletics during his school days,…

[whatsonmedia]

Music Monday: Latest Music Tracks of This Week!

Welcome to the ultimate dancefloor experience, meticulously curated by music editor Adam Humphries. Prepare to ignite your soul and unleash your inner groove with this precision-curated playlist. Featuring recently released upbeat tracks, this selection guarantees a non-stop music extravaganza that will leave you breathless. Get ready to dance like there's no tomorrow and embark on an unforgettable week of electrifying beats and unstoppable moves. Let the music be your guide and let the rhythm take control! Africa Oyé announces FULL MUSIC LINE-UP for 2023 Festival in Sefton Park! Eclectic music festival, Africa Oye, is on this summer and is all set to be a celebration of music of all things from African to the wider Disapora. There will be many musical acts who will take centre stage to represent Cuba, Ghana, Colombia and D.R Congo  Taking over Sefton Park for two days this Summer on the 17th and 18th June 2023, artists from Liverpool to Accra, Havana to London musicians both unknown and from TikTok will put on a huge musical extravaganza. Headlining this year's festival are Afrobeat superstar, Seun Kuti (son of Fela Kuti) and pioneering dancehall singer, Tanya Stephens. They are also joined on the line-up by British/Congolese rapper and singer, ZieZie whose addition to the line-up will delight his 100,000+ followers on TikTok.  On 17th & 18th June 2023, thousands in Sefton Park will celebrate the music and culture of Africa with two free days of fantastic music, workshops, DJs, dance, food stalls and a range of traders in the Village. Entrance is FREE and you do not need a ticket. Harry Heart releases new album - “Cambistry” following sold out NFT collection! Same Solution, G.O.M.Y.O, Diving Bell, Heat and Can't be Led, just five of the songs from Harry Heart's new upcoming album Cambistry due out soon.  The album is a stylish mix of rock, acoustic, ambient and soul based sounds that have all been put together to make an absolute corker of a record. And an Absolute corker is definitely one of the words I'd use to describe it. After hearing little tasters even, I enjoyed hearing it and if you listen carefully, you can hear the LCD Soundsystem and James Blake influences.  https://open.spotify.com/album/09YuUeMSnYSDcqDLH4Ns2n?si=QpXZ9xhVQ8emVQXRAr5-hw RICHARD WALTERS - Reveals new solo track "Move On" || Announces UK Shows Sorry can be a hard one to say at best but in this case, Richard Walters has sung it instead. Move On is a gentle heartfelt melodic tune which wears its heart on its sleeve. Richard's voice carries plenty of feeling as he expresses his regrets from his past so as to reconcile. After being away for a year and a half this is certainly a superb choice for a comeback track and his talent as a solo artist is evident  He will be performing the song as part of his set as part of his upcoming tour later this year in November  RETURNS WITH ATMOSPHERIC, AFFECTING NEW SINGLE:  "MOVE ON" RELEASED 26 MAY, VIA NETTWERK STREAM ON ALL SERVICES HERE https://richardwalters.ffm.to/moveon UK TOUR DATES THIS NOVEMBER - TICKETS https://www.richardwaltersmusic.co.uk/live RICHARD WALTERS - LIVE DATES 2023 24 Nov - BRISTOL, The Louisiana 25 Nov - OXFORD, Jericho Tavern 29 Nov - MANCHESTER, The Castle Hotel 30 Nov - LONDON, The Grace MONOGRAMS - Releases Breathless "Carry The Weight" || New Album 'A Fine Commitment' out 16 June Electronic rock fusion at its finest, that or Ian Jacobs, music maestro behind MONOGRAMS, has possibly taken a leaf out of Kraftwerk's book. Carry The Weight has what can best be described as an invigorating track which has its foot in the future whilst keeping another in the past yet still makes its place in the present. Ian is every bit an amazing frontman regardless of the band being a one-man project.  Carry The Weight is proof in the pudding of electronic rock excellence  MONOGRAMS NYC 'NUKE WAVE' ARTIST RETURNS WITH THE BREATHLESS: "CARRY THE WEIGHT"  STREAM ON YOUTUBE HERE https://youtu.be/Tff1183W3XU ALL SERVICES HERE https://orcd.co/jp1dv38 Read the full article

[dancehall-flex]

DJ VILLAGE: GOLD AND BLACK 2023 LUTON #dancehall

DJ VILLAGE: GOLD AND BLACK 2023 LUTON #dancehall https://www.dancehallflex.com/?p=21000

[sivavakkiyar]

★ Word, Sound, Power ★ An attempt to showcase the legendary Dalit icon Bant Singh and his songs of rebellion, inter-caste violence and equality. Bant Singh from Jabbhar Village in Punjab is a legendary singer and activist of Mazdoor Mukti Morcha. In 2006 he was attacked by a gang of upper caste men, beaten with iron rods and left for dead. His arms and legs have been amputated but his tongue remains an effective tool to voice the plight of his comrades. The Bant Singh Project is a brave collaboration covering wide uncharted areas of music and socially harking themes - the mashed up Indian electronic sounds of Chris McGuinness and the politically charged flow of Delhi Sultanate attempt to spread the message to the digital masses via dancehall, dub, and poetry.  The project culminates in a short film shot in Jabbhar Village - filmed on location, by photographer Lakshman Anand, directed by Samrat Bee and edited by Loco Farm for New Delhi Films. The film critically examines the need for voices of dissent in todays capitalized urban society. Also a deeper look into Bant Singhs background, his lyrical inspirations, 20 years of the unsung Dalit struggle in Punjab. The Bant Singh Project uses music, film and lyricism to represent socially relevant issues which transcend language and place.  Watch the film here:  www.youtube.com/watch?v=yiQSwzFy7l0  The album is freely available or for whatever one wishes to pay.

[tryingmyves]

The Vampire Masquerade

PAIRING: vampire!Tenya Iida x female!Y/N

a/n: i have brain rot from vampire!iida whoops

c/w: implied smut smut golf

tagging the iida army: @peachiileaf + @saturnity + @honeypirate + @coleluuviida + @uwu-iwanttodie + @high-on-potats + @khai-luvs-iida ✨

The warnings of the serious and sinister man in the castle north of your village rang in your ears endlessly as a child. It was said that he was cruel and handsome, with crimson eyes that always looked hungry. Scary stories of how he moves silently through shadows, too swiftly for sound to catch, remind children to be home before dark. For some time you listened to them. However, as you grew so too did your curiosity and unearned confidence.

You wandered in the woods near the castle grounds on occasion, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man. Lingering after the sun had set, testing him to take you away. He did. But not in the way you were warned. You had been traipsing through the forest each evening for nearly a week before he appeared. He did so suddenly and without warning, apparating behind you soundlessly. His presence only noticed when he spoke, “Hello, miss.”

You had gasped at the unexpected voice, turning to see him behind you. He was tall and muscular, though not in a way that made him bulky. A loose cotton tunic draping over his toned chest. He wore trousers and formal shoes, remarkably unusual for your surroundings. Yet he moved with such grace it was as if he controlled the very ground beneath him.

With a slight bow he extended an icy hand, “It’s quite late for a lady to be out in the woods. Please allow me to walk you to town.” His eyes were not hungry like you had expected, but filled with a curiosity that was reflected back at you in the stained mirrors of your home. You allowed him to escort you back to them that night and he did so with kind conversation. He was nothing like the devil described in the tales of mothers. He was chivalrous and beautiful. And you were helplessly drawn to him. So the next evening you ventured back into the forest and he escorted you home once more. The two of you fell into a waltz of orchestrated happenstance. Lord Iida was aware of your intentions and masterfully manipulated them into his own.

Soon you were living in his castle, an honored guest. You dined on decadence daily and bathed in velvet silks. The Lord never feasted himself, only sipped a deep red wine from a goblet. You were allowed access to his library and spent the days exploring the castle and it’s secrets. In the evenings Lord Iida would lead you to the ballroom, now in a dance of his own design. You had possessed him and he was determined to have you. However, always the gentleman, Lord Iida had to court you first. He did so effortlessly; in a fortnight you were madly in love.

This evening Lord Iida sits with you as you eat, but his usual goblet is absent.

“Lady Y/N, may I make a proposal?”

Your cheeks heat from the way he says your name, “Please, my Lord.”

“After you’ve finished your meal this evening, perhaps I may escort you to my chambers instead of the dancehall.”

There’s a brief stutter in your heart at his words. He has been so proper with you. Despite your longing the Lord had not even kissed you yet. He only ever graced your knuckles with his lips. He’d hold you while dancing in the great hall, but never anything more. But now, he’s asking to whisk you away to his chambers. You put down your fork with as much delicacy you can manage and place the folded silk in your lap onto your unfinished plate.

“I’d quite like that, my Lord,” you say, standing.

And so he does. Flashes of lightning from this evening’s storm illuminate your journey through the castle halls; your heart keeping rhythm with the patter of raindrops on the stained glass, cathedral windows. You're in his room before you have a chance to tame the beating contraption. His lips are on yours in an instant, his tongue snaking into your mouth. With ease, he lifts you from the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his torso. He stalks to the bed, throwing you on to the feathered mattress. And now you see the hunger that you had been warned about all those years ago.

[blinder-secrets]

In The Leaves

tommy x reader, 1,850 words

a bit nsfw, mostly power play and lusting

The house is quiet when you get home, shut off, and dark, and empty empty empty. You dawdle in the entry way. Drip your coat off, leave your bag by the hat stand. If Tommy’s in he’s sleeping, or hiding, or locked up in the office with his head in the whiskey. You unlace your boots and push them under the dresser, though he hates when you do that. There’s places for shoes, he says, put them away.

‘Tom?’

You call his name quietly, around the open door to his office. There’s no light, no man. He’s in bed, then. For once he’s beaten you to it.  

You go upstairs, zigzagging on the wide staircase because you can, because it’s late and your time is still your own to play with. It isn’t often that you take nights for yourself. No Tommy, no business. Free to do as you please. You’d gone to Vera’s first, then to the dancehall, then to Polly’s house in that little village, with the pretty parks and the bridges. You’d made your driver wait in the car until you were bored, and you’d paid him handsomely for it. That was part of the novelty too; money from your purse, orders in your voice, followed, not questioned. You see why Tommy craves it.

‘I should go home,’ you’d told Pol, ‘he hates when I’m away.’

‘No, love, he just hates not knowing where.’

‘Oh,’ you’d said. ‘Oh, no, I don’t think that’s it at all.’

When you reach the top, your stocking snags on a splintered floorboard. You pull it twice, and then it’s free again, but there’s a rip from your heel to your ankle. They were new; you’d put them on straight from the packet.

‘[Y/n]?’ His voice comes from the bedroom, low and curling around the hallway. ‘That you?’

‘Yes, Tom,’ you answer. ‘I’ve ripped my tights on the stairs.’

You follow your voice back to him, chase it through until you’re in the doorway, and he’s in the bed, ignoring you like you’d said nothing at all. You were right. Not sleeping, but hiding. He’s sitting against the headboard, chest bare, with the covers to his waist. He looks young, boyish. There’s note-paper in his hands and two more sheets of it on his lap.

‘Where’ve you been?’ he asks, without looking from his reading.

You slouch into the doorframe. ‘Am I in trouble?’

His eyes flick to you. It’s so quick, it may have just been the light on his glasses. ‘If you want to be,’ he says.

‘I was at Poll’s house.’

‘Drinking?’

‘Of sorts.’ The tear in your stocking is growing, you lift your foot to feel your heel through the hole. ‘She read my leaves,’ you say.

He sighs, sets the paper down, and picks up the next. ‘Did she?’

Your foot hits the floor with a thump. ‘Don’t you want to know what she saw?’

No, he thinks. No, I don’t care, he thinks. No, I’m sitting and reading and not looking at you, not even once, because I’m Tommy, and I’m bored of everything that isn’t myself.

You watch for a reaction. A clue that you’re right, that he is thinking all that, but he’s just still. His eyes follow the lines slowly. He clears his throat once, and then flips the page over to read the back.

‘It involved the two of us,’ you add, ‘the pictures in the leaves.’

‘Hm?’

Sighing, you cross the room and climb onto the bed on your knees.

‘You’re no fun, Tommy Shelby.’ Not when you want him to be. Not when it costs his time.

You crawl over to him, then turn onto your back and put your head on his thigh. You set your cheek against the covers so you can watch him, so he can find you at the bottom of the page, so he looks at you without meaning to. ‘What’re you reading that’s so important?’ you ask.

‘Letters,’ he answers, dropping the word into your gaze.

‘From who?’

‘Important people, love.’

‘Can’t I know?’ You touch his elbow, running your fingers in circles around the ridges of his skin. ‘I write your letters for you, sometimes.’

The paper lowers enough that your hand becomes trapped between his arm and the pillow behind him. ‘You asked for the night off, didn’t you?’

From work. Not from conversation, not from him. ‘I suppose,’ you grumble. Your bottom lip juts out and you let it sit there. Watch me pout, Tommy, watch me sulk like a child.

He sighs. Then he stacks the letter with the others and puts them all, abandoned, on the bedside table. ‘Alright,’ he says, once he’s looking down at you again. ‘What did Polly say,’ he groans, settling into the bed, ‘about your tea?’

You pull your hand free and turn your head to the ceiling. Your arms cross over your chest. It doesn’t matter now, it isn’t as interesting. ‘I’ve forgotten. Something about changing responsibility.’

‘Responsibilities?’ His hand goes to your face, his index finger trailing the line of your nose, across your lips and over your chin, down, down until it’s resting in the hollow of your throat. ‘Yours or mine?’ he asks.

‘Ours.’

He hums, the noise is deep in his chest, tumbling lower and under your skull. ‘What else?’

Suddenly, you’re shy. Nervous to tell him. What Polly had seen had excited you, filled you up with possibility and wonder, left you curious. Wanting. Tommy’s scrutiny would kill that, you’re sure. He’d flay the ideas and leave you to gather the scraps. ‘Nothing important,’ you tell him. ‘She thinks I should let go more. Let myself be.’

‘You should.’ His hand flattens over your collarbone. It’s either mercy, or his interest peaking and withering between you, because he changes subject like the conversation’s over. ‘You ripped your stockings?’ he asks, question already answered in his tone.

You look back to him, smiling. ‘So, you were listening.’

His eyebrows raise, head tilting as if to say, maybe. Maybe he was. Maybe he’s seen the ladder running up your calf.

‘Will you buy me a new pair?’ you ask.

‘If you want.’

‘Fancy ones? French?’

He nods.

‘You’ll give me anything, won’t you?’ Anything with a price tag, anything material. If it was within reason, he’d say yes, he’d have it on your dresser in a ribbon by the morning. You loop your fingers around his wrist. ‘Anything but attention,’ you muse. ‘That, I have to work for.’

You watch him blink, watch him incline his head and wet his lips. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

No, not most.

‘You like working for it,’ he adds.

You snort. ‘Not always.’

Sometimes it’s nice to start things, sometimes you like to pull the want from behind his bored eyes. To make him need you, to make him melt beneath, and give way, craving, falling to the tide. Other times, it feels like a chore. Another responsibility you hadn’t asked for.

‘I shouldn’t have to do it all the time,’ you say, quieter than planned.

‘You have my attention now.’

‘Because I took it,’ you say.

‘No,’ he corrects. 'Because I gave it.’

He hold’s your gaze for a moment. Something slips between you, a new tension that twitches under your ribs, scattering your heartbeat. It bubbles and gathers in your chest, forces your breaths to become quick and short. You’re sure he notices it. Sure he’s planned for it. He looks down at you, lay against his lap, like he’s waiting for the nerves to form; for anticipation to fizz your senses.

His hand slides up until its curving around your neck, thumb and fingers bracketing your throat. It stills there, baited, cold against your skin. ‘Is it enough?’ he asks. ‘Have you had enough, hm?’

You swallow; it runs under his palm, sinking into your gut. ‘No, not yet.’  

He squeezes once, pulling lightly enough to get you to comply, and then you’re sitting up for him. Up and towards his chest, with his hand on your throat and your fingers scooped over his shoulders.

‘You don’t want to start things,’ he says, ‘not always?’

Your head shakes by itself.

‘Words, love.’

‘No,’ you answer.

‘Done making decisions, eh?’ His hand twists to hold the back of your neck, fingers splayed and straying into the base of your hair. ‘Tired of taking charge?’

‘Yes, Tom.’

He nods, the gesture is so slight it could have been nothing. ‘Take my glasses off,’ he says.

You do. You pull them from his face and set them on top of the papers, his gaze unmoving as you do so. The room’s quiet, but your head’s swelling with noise, your blood pumping loud enough to convince your eardrums that it’s in there. Filling your skull. Strong enough to dizzy you. When you straighten in front of him, his hands are on your waist, firmly, like he knows you need it.

Then he leans forward, pushing you backwards until you’re beneath him. Your arms are pulled upwards, flat on the bed, crossed at the wrists. He holds them there with one hand.

‘Have to let yourself be,’ he says by your ear. ‘You don’t want control, do you?’

You want to answer him. You want to tell him that this is what you’d meant, this is how it should be. Not always, but sometimes. A change of responsibility like the leaves said. When you open your mouth, all that pours out is a sweetened moan. It rides your breath over his shoulder and into the air.

‘No,’ you sigh. Not tonight. You don’t want control, you want this, you want this and him and attention until it’s flooding you. Until it’s too much.

Head lowered, he sinks kisses into your neck. Drags teeth and tongue down the line of your throat ’til you’re mewling. You lift up against him, back curved and eager, but he pushes back with his hips. Forces you down, subdued. Into the mattress and wanting.

‘Tommy,’ you whine.

He shushes you. ‘Leave them there,’ he says, as he pulls his hand from your wrists.

He goes upright, backwards and away from you, sitting on his heels like he’s praying. The sheet lies twisted around his knees. You wish he’d move it, you want bare skin against bare skin.

‘What shall I do with you?’ he asks himself. ‘Ay? How shall I have you?’

You’re putty waiting beneath his fingers. You’re honey, dripping, cloying, holding shape but slowly losing. His thumb finds the band of your stocking, pulls it taut against the clip that holds it there. Anything. Do anything. You’re his, you’re melting. You’re light pouring through the gaps and waiting, waiting to burst. Elastic snaps against your thigh. He smiles.

‘I like having you like this,’ he says.

Like you’re leaves, swirled and left in the cup. Wanting to be read, to be understood, to be laid out and fulfilled.

‘Like you’re mine,’ he finishes.

‘I am,’ you tell him. ‘I am, Tommy, I am.’

[a-haunting-of-four]

✨ Thorki Trick or Treat // 6. Altar ✨

The morning after Jane’s funeral, Thor took nothing with him and drove northeast as far as the cash in his pocket could take him. 

 On his last stop before boarding the ferry he’d bought a burner phone and called only his mother. Frigga had listened quietly as her son spoke and then stole another minute just to hear him breathing, before telling him she understood, that she loved him, and let him go. The last thing Thor heard across the line was the sound of his father’s voice, but not what he said. 

After resetting his phone to the factory settings he’d left it on a picnic table for a local teenager to find and walked away. 

 The small village where he settled had built its foundations on sea spray and the towering evergreens that spread further inland than the townsfolk has ever spread. The autumns were harsh and the winter harsher, and spring was a short intake of breath before the summer storms. Most of the population were twice Thor’s age and glad enough to welcome a young stranger who could repair their boat engines and generators. Each year the town grew smaller- chairs staked in the corner of a pub that was once a dancehall, empty overgrown fields where cattle once grazed. Tourists seldom strayed this far north, Thor was told, and the few that did passed quickly.

There was little history to a town so small, and even fewer legends. Only a caved in standing stone covered in moss further afield. Too far a hike for too little a sight. 

It is a good, simple life. So far away from what he was accustomed to that he falls into an easy routine in less than a fortnight and stopped turning heads after his first month. 

 He doesn’t remember the standing stone until it’s mentioned one night in the pub, pints shared by the taps, the owner brings it up. 

tbc.

---

You can find my writing on Twitter and AO3 (listed above!) Stay tuned for the full one-shots going up on AO3 soon 🖤

[louisdebraganza]

I am writing to you from Italy, which means I am writing from the accelerated present of the pandemic. What started as a parallel dance among successive epidemics’ charts has become a chaos of separate choreographies. Depending on the country, the dance moves have been authoritarian, orderly and effective, fallible but humane, incompetent, in denial, abusive or even genocidal. The Covid-19 dancehall, however, is the same for everyone. Its walls are covered in mirrors. They are showing us who we really are and there’s no way we can avert our gaze.

The lifting of lockdown restrictions brings excitement, relief, anxiety, mistrust and trepidation. Some people will worry that it’s too soon, with the curve still far from being flat. They will stay put if they can, and wait and see. Others have decided that it’s over and will refuse to be stifled both in action and mood. It’s a landscape of ruins – grieving families, rising poverty, mental health crisis, the virus still roaming at large – but invisible for those who haven’t been directly affected. This will change soon.

There will be no lifting of lockdown for those at risk due to previous health conditions. They understand better than anyone else that the pandemic is far from over. Will they see the end of it alive?

Some healthcare workers will at last be reunited with toddlers who were beginning to forget their face. Others will have to remain quarantined so as to keep saving the lives of strangers. Both regard as a personal insult the word “hero” on the lips of elected officials whose policies curtailed their wages and made their shifts unnecessarily gruelling.

Teachers will be happy that nobody ever called them heroes, even though they’re the ones who’ve kept the public education systems running online; they too would appreciate better wages.

Long-fought gains in gender equality, which required the struggles of generations, have been obliterated in a day, as soon as working women were left without daycare centres.

Out of respect to the pain of others, many will hesitate to admit how much they enjoyed lockdown: its slowness, freedom from social pretence and the permission to be unproductive, to relinquish control.

Families and couples who avoided petty quarrels like sailors weathering a storm, who took good care of each other, may treasure forever all that unscheduled time together, like a precious gift. For others, instead, lockdown together was hell, but now, with even less money, where can they go?

Young people will rush out of isolation to finally have a good time, forgetting to wear their face masks. Older generations will say: “They are irresponsible, they only care about themselves, they are going to kill us all!” Young people will reply: “Let us remind you how you’ve handled climate change.”

The collective scale of events highlights the irrelevance of individuals. This will be embraced without qualms by the naturally empathic and by those women trained since childhood to put the needs of others before their own. It will shamefully confirm instead the secret low self-esteem of narcissists, and turn them into even more histrionic nuisances.All of the above also applies to world leaders. Some of whom, especially the inept ones, will sometimes curse their fate. Why didn’t this impossible mess fall into their predecessor’s lap?

The Covid-19 dancehall mirrors are hurling at our face the enormity of the world’s suffering – the decimated Amazon rainforest tribes, the jobless Indian labourer who walked for hundreds of miles towards his ancestral village, the homeless man who slept in the entrance of an office building until metal spikes were placed on the floor – and the understanding that we are all connected.

For many of us, this will make the world’s monstrous inequality increasingly unbearable, the environmental catastrophe something to be addressed at all costs, just like the cesspit of racialised history.

But not for all of us. “We struggle to pay our bills, we might be jobless soon and our wife just filed for divorce. Now, on top of all that, we are meant to feel guilty and repent?” The resentment at being defined as “privileged” will lead some of us to hate those whose existence reminds us that, yes, even if only relatively to them, we were dealt a better hand. And we’ll vote for anyone who promises to allow us to feel separate, superior and not responsible in any way for their pain.

Maybe one day we will look back at the quarantine confinement, regardless of how it was for us – traumatic, soothing or just plain odd – not at all like the exceptional experience we thought it was as we were living it. But more like the rehearsal before the dress rehearsal, well before the real drama.

© Francesca Melandri