What's going on at DelARTe.com: " you don't have to be shoeish........"
Adventures of the FMP, chapter two:
To see chapter one click on the first red shoe.
Surely the cat had something to do with things........
As
it happed, reality took a sharp turn:
Going to dance,
but
then, on the way, something else occured
that put an end to the idea:
______________________________________________
Exhibit A: a foreboding
_____
Galleries
often reflect what's going on in society,
insurmountable turmoil.
the
"Tiger Lillies" put it
beautifully:
"An I scream dream" (click the lyrics and see the video)
But now - The story:
It
has beeen said that one shoe rarely walks alone,
as things unfolded further
it appeared that this wasn't entirely so.
There was evidence of a quick
getaway, so quick in fact that one shoe
got stuck again and was in fact
left behind .
Judging by chapter one,
this
constituted a case of:
"Near de ja vous" .
Who can say wether the above pictures preceded the pictures below?
All
manner of evidence remained behind, strewn about. Some of it was
actually found, possibly to the detriment of others.
However, decisive conclusions were hampered by
by gusts of sporadic and powerful winds that kept
changing the scene.
Impossible to tell where the event that led to these
displays may
have originated.
Shoes were strewn every which way leading the imagination to go out of bounds.
Unmentionables, were found, denatured from their cozy
lodgings they
were strewn about devoid of purpose, layed waist utterly.
Closer
examination yielded little but a faint smell betraying
their ownership among the clear forest air.
What might have happened is for at least
one to know
and for everybody else to guess.
But perhaps I should start at the beginning.
Origins:
In their previous life these undergarments enjoyed a pretty
warm
relationship with their owner and their visitors alike.
Off
course this couldn't last, certainly not for long. Failsafe isn't in
there,
their
faith was sealed way back at the beginning, at their purchase.
There
was, as is the traditional custom, an alternate agenda running
from
the very beginning.
There were plans for testing the potential customers for suitability. Open the
playground, play along and subsequently tighten the noose,
testing the grounds further with guinea pigs, perhaps a dog, etc.
After that, the roadster would be replaced with a station wagon.
Watching TV while knitting little things, you know the drill;
time wouldn't stand still after a biological clock face is mounted.
The trap was set and baited.
By
way of speculation it was likely that soon the rose would reveal its
true color,
after
all the most innocent white is a mixture of the entire spectrum, given
the
right filter a narrow mix of color was bound to emerge. Clearly a
monumental
shift in relations was in the offing. Truth is:
As
things go, they don't always go exactly as planned. Some characters
mold better than others, some revolt at the thought of being manipulated.
Many simply opt out, but it is fair to say that generally the methods
vary greatly.
Given
the notable absence of an owner of said garments we can only
assume
that something might have gone wrong, possibly terribly wrong.
Prepare for tears.
The
next step was to reconstruct what might have happened on hand of the
evidence
and taking the general surroundings into account:
Alas
the exercise lead, as so many things do, to unintended consequences.
All this amateur sleuthing bore out the idea of writing a movie script
which
demanded some some more research at the presumed
site
of the incident. Having been handed such a bonanza of incidentals
a
detailed story was bound to emerge. First a provisionary title:
"The
Lair Bitch Project" a bit misogynistic perhaps, but good sensationalist
sport.
Raise the odd eyebrows all around! No such thing as bad press, and all that.
The script needed to be worked out along some of the speculations:
Dial P for pump.
It all started up hill
and went all down hill from there.
All the way, by waterways.
Back
in the bay, safe!? Safely?
Off
course there are at least two shoes to be reckoned with and it appears
that
the other shoe, once dropped, found new and I might add
unexpected
attention. It turned out that the deed would be done
by
one of these, no doubt foreign trained, charismatic super fauna
rodents trained to remove vital evidence. Cute, and very efficient.
If you are curious, like the oysters, and want to see how things really unfolded
you
will have to click on the squirrel's tail to load a small, secretly
filmed,
movie of the action.
Please
contact me by eMail
or call me, in California 510 292 1914
or when I am in the EU (43) 0676 540 3265
Copyright Herb Ranharter 2025
All webrights reserved 2025