In Solidarity with the Kurdish women of the YPJ and the defence of Kobani
long live the resistance.
Long live letting your hair down.
Is a tiger with a sore tooth any different then a dragon with an arrow in its claw? They both acknowledge the annoyance, both remain ferocious even when one approaches with a pair of pliers and the skills needed to mend their certain ailment. Both retreat to their caves, and bare their fangs, and in such doings, both become as timid as playful kittens chasing a never-ending ball of yarn deeper into the many twisting caverns. In Asian traditions, the dragon never needed wings to fly, but the tiger always wore its stripes. A winged tigress then, is that any more dangerous then a striped dragon? Both still go into the cave chasing the yarn, fluttering over and under the stalactites and stalagmites, only a tad odder then their original nature. And I, when I go through eithers entrance searching for treasure, the how to get it out then also becomes similar. Their roar without looking back, also too similar, and I ask myself, is there any difference? Their jaws, being the most similar, I fit myself into either of their mouths and I join the bones amongst the treasure. In the caves darkness, I can’t anticipate either stripes, or scales, or wings, and this hesitation, it alone makes them both breathe fire.