unknown word or name

Felix Gonzalez-Torres’s Untitled (Perfect Lovers), 1991

[The work] consists of a pair of inexpensive, plain-faced wall clocks, ticking away side by side. The instructions for installation insist that the two be set at exactly the same time, but because of their imprecise mechanisms, it is only a short time before one of the clocks falls a second or two behind the other. “The beauty of the piece is that it is a very perfect image of what a couple is, trying to stay on the same page but never actually being able to,” says Molesworth. (via)

Bog is like the wolves of Yellowstone. Leaving them as they are and observing them from a distance is great! But if you come close or disturb it, you face consequences. You are first greeted by ticks (Lyme's disease) and adders. Then you are faced with bombs and bodies. Only then do you realize you are lost. Your franctic screams for help do not rescue you from your fate of drowning. Your corpse will be laughed at, and you will be used for your stupidity as a cautionary tale. Those who try to convince you otherwise are affiliated with the Big Evil Bog Limited TM.

Setting aside, for a moment, the Kelpies, the Will-O-The-Wisp, the Boggarts, the Redcaps, the Pixies, the Leprechauns, the Kappa, the Banshees, the Salamanders, the Witches, the Trolls, and the many many other folkloric beasties one might encounter in such a place

It is a Mouth Of The Earth

Mires, both Bog & Fen, are peat-accumulating environments. They’re carbon sinks. They’re the spots on the earth where the Carbon returns to the Stone. In most biomes, Dying is simply a temporary form of transformation. The deceased becoming food for other living things, predators and scavengers and detrivores, within short order, biomass reorganized and set about into motion again through the endless alchemy of metabolism. Nothing on Earth stays dead for long, if you remove Ego and Identity from your framework.

But not in Bogs

Bogs keep their Dead

The water, acidic and oxygen poor, rich in bitter tannins and dissolved minerals, but poor in essential nutrients, acts as a natural preservative, preventing the usual nutrient recycling and upcycling found from the jungles to the poles everywhere that life usually flourishes. Those that live in the Bog live the drama of their lives out on top of a gradually accumulating crust of rotting biomass that can get deep enough to swallow a man whole if he steps in the wrong spot. Say, a spot with poor structure, held aloft by a hidden bubble of toxic, flammable methane gas, liberated from rotting carcasses below by methanogenic archaea.

The Bog will LITERALLY consume you

drawing my fav queer characters for pride month!