Bali scarecrows, what can I say? A parallel nation of plastic and cloth, garish and divine. Perched high above a sea of green they rule, they raise a finger at the wingful sky. An army of avatars, almost-alive, almost-a-lie.
They flap their sleeves and make me shout 'PAGI, PAGI!' as I run by, on my more myopic mornings, dragging school bags, trailed by one barking dog and three calves even more confused than me.
Raising the pulse of the entire winged population with some Darth Vader head gear, are we? Magnificent, I say, although, although....
I'm yet to see. The Greatest. The Scariest. Scarecrow. Of All.
Simple in appearance. Little white T-shirt, no hat. And yet, look at the patch in his care. Birds, bugs? Not a flutter. Grain won't grow. Look how those sun rays only touch the edges. And see that stream turn the corner and slink away.
They flap their sleeves and make me shout 'PAGI, PAGI!' as I run by, on my more myopic mornings, dragging school bags, trailed by one barking dog and three calves even more confused than me.
Raising the pulse of the entire winged population with some Darth Vader head gear, are we? Magnificent, I say, although, although....
I'm yet to see. The Greatest. The Scariest. Scarecrow. Of All.
Simple in appearance. Little white T-shirt, no hat. And yet, look at the patch in his care. Birds, bugs? Not a flutter. Grain won't grow. Look how those sun rays only touch the edges. And see that stream turn the corner and slink away.
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