Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet.
Let it not be a death but completeness.
Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.
Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest.
Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night.
Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence.
I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.

- Rabindranath Tagore

If you're close to me, and you have cool/important news, please tell me directly. I detest not being told personally and finding out via the likes of Twitter/Facebook, and it's happening too often.

This has been brought to you, partially, by finding out third hand my little brother is engaged via his new fiancee's Facebook status.

Keeping comments initially screened for this one, in case you have something you want to say or announce.

Seriously, sometimes you come along a piece that is nothing less than sensational. Layers upon layers of melodic, beautiful orchestral-choral-soaring song. Enjoy.

Sigur Ros - Odin's Raven Magic (Chapter 3)

Daily Mail/Daily Express readers, look away now.

Email from the local Sergeant: it began, "This is an ongoing problem that [Council] is taking very seriously." I have to say, I laughed when I read that :-(

It turns out that the large majority of the rough sleepers are not UK born or have British citizenship, and are in fact Eastern European. The police are aware, as are the UK Border Agency, and have been visiting over the last few weeks to serve paperwork informing them of appointments for deportation as they've breached immigration rules. "I have little doubt that most will fail to attend appointments and as such will be circulated as being liable for arrest... We will continue to come down and move people on but we are more than aware that they return later in the day. Please call us on our team mobile [with number here] and we will come straight down."

So, my boss' suspicions were right. Looks like they've deliberately moved here, on the basis that even begging will get them more cash than a job would in their native countries. Over the next few weeks they're going to be arrested and sent back.

I would think of her as a bit of a right winger, were it not for that she's from Eastern Europe herself.

It certainly doesn't paint a good picture for the large majority of immigrants here. It's furthered by a story from someone in my family, who works with am Eastern European man; he's been awarded a 4 bedroom house by the local council, in which his family lives... for 3 months a year. Rest of the time, they're in their home country. He also works 12 hours a week, so eligible for benefits. And it's all legal. My sister is now facing raising a very large family in a 3 room bungalow - no, not three bedroom, three room - which is fitted for disabled people. It could go to someone else, but it can't right now because they have nowhere else to go. Rent prices are rising, and the allowance for housing benefit is falling. Neither she nor her partner can't or won't play the system: twins are on the way, but they don't count until they're a year old. It just doesn't make sense to me.

Thing is, I still have nothing against people who are not born here, but want to live here. My first, enduring and continuing experience of immigrants is that of positivity, learning and affection. I have been introduced to mannerisms, music, food and cultures that when combined form a picture of differing decency, respect and often fun. I am proud that my current partner is an immigrant, someone who is not British by birth, but chose to be by working hard. I am proud that I live and work with and love people who make the most of their choices and opportunities. I am proud that every single one of my colleagues is from Eastern Europe.

To these people, difference is what makes them and the country I am born in and that they live in such a great place. Their skills, intelligence, and determination to make their life choices work is something that inspires. They make me laugh, and teach me. I see nothing wrong in this.

It's just the minorities we have here, on old sofas and mattresses, plastic and cardboard; they're being shifted back to their own country. This chapter has an ending. And what else can we do? How else could it end?

"It's weird. I feel... I dunno, something."

"People fall out of the world sometimes, but they always leave traces. Little things we can't quite account for. Faces, luggage, half eaten meals. Rings."

*Sol is in tears, quietly.*

"Nothing is ever forgotten, not completely, and if something can be remembered... it can come back."

I'm reading a lot of, well, wank about some of the Eastercon workshops.

I'm not going to wade in to the biggest source, because I don't have the energy, but I will say this, and this is why it's public:

Eastercon (and organisers), I am extremely glad you have such a wide range of workshops, especially the bondage. Thanks to those, I met a fantastic man, discovered it was okay to love myself and unusual things, and felt attractive for the first time in my life.

At this Eastercon, at the same hotel, I'll be celebrating two years of an incredible, affectionate, healthy, moving and heart-opening partnership that has resulted directly from the bondage workshops.

Eastercon, you rock. I am looking forward to opening up, and healing, and loving more thanks to you, and the people who put so much effort into making you amazing.

Whoever gifted me the paid LJ time, thank you - I really appreciate it. :-)