My muse, it must be said, is male and so explains some of my writings. Mostly, I just shake my head and just keep thrashing the old keyboard.

What does this have to do with dead people who sing, you want to know? Well bear with me, all will become clear soon enough.

My female character collects river-worn fragments of glass, and is telling my protagonist all about the numerous qualities of such treasure (he is unimpressed, of course). Thick glass is old and blue glass is rare — probably a poison bottle at one time — a rare something to be found, just waiting to be discovered.

Well last week, for one reason or another, I didn’t get down to the river as I usually do on a Wednesday, but I did today. I walked again in the place where my story is set, and remembered that there is now an altogether different tale being told there — a tale from reality.

Last week, a woman was found drowned at ‘my’ bend in the river, washed up where my lovely Irish spryte collects her pretty glass. The woman was a suicide, apparently, and had decided to wash away her tears in my river’s flowing waters. I can’t, quite frankly, think of a more beautiful place to die, but lament that a setting such as that, one so very gorgeous, could not sway her away from her ghastly, sorrowful mission.

I wondered which eddy she drifted into, waiting to be found, as I wandered along the banks there. I scanned the shaded banks where the waters run slow, but deep and listened to the river’s song as it met with the shallows further on. The banks were utterly clear of glass today, unusual, because there has been quite a bit of rain over the last few days, enough to put the river level up and to bring in fresh spoils from upstream.

But wait.

I had arrived at a spot in which I highly suspected the river may have rested her tragic load, a small inlet where the water seemed to stop completely to lap out a rhythm on the pebbled beach. And there at my feet lay a piece of glass — a piece of rare, blue, glass.

Sometimes the river is quiet. Sometimes she sings. Today I like to believe that a new voice has joined with hers, and that the woman who added that voice and tears to those beautiful waters is at last at some kind of peace.

~~~~

Quote taken from the live chat box on Ko-htiks’s site a couple of minutes ago: komg: I see all from south okkalapa with my eye.They really killed so many.A student and a man near my home die.i feel so sorry now.I want to kill all.

News reports from the BBC, comments from the Guardian, all suggest that the US and UN will be unable to stop these atrocities from happening. They all point to China and India, saying the onus lies with these two countries flanking tiny Burma. But at the moment China is unmoved, as is Russia — another behemoth of a country all too ready to turn a blind eye. So what, if anything, can the EU and the US do?

It’s simple, force China’s hand.

We must do this. Someone has to make a stand to help these people. America, Britain, Europe, I implore you — your sanctions don’t mean a thing here, but your lack of presence will. Do the only thing that will make China sit up and listen: Pull out of the Olympic Games. Pull out now.

If democracy really DOES mean anything to you (yes, President Bush, I’m speaking to you) then you will pull out, and do it now.

Meanwhile, what can we do as individuals? Email the regime is one, search around the web for sites that petition world leaders to act against the Burmese junta. Have a look around HERE for information and to make a difference. You can email the asking for the release of the countries true leader: Aung San Suu Kyi.

Don’t fill up at Total petrol/gas stations. Yep, Total is one of the largest investors in the Burmese military junta. The regime have used money gained by Total investments to buy military hardware, including fighter planes. Drive right on by and get your car fuel elsewhere. It’s not that hard.

Don’t sit back and watch these people die. Find out what you can do, then do it. Please.

I liked Colin. He was a people’s hero type of bloke. Yeah, he drove cars very quickly, lived a fast and dangerous life many can only dream of, but he seemed to be an okay guy.

The sadness in this case is that his five-year-old son also died with him. Too young to attain any heights at all, build any dreams — let alone find the stars like his father — this little guy can’t even be a comfort to his mother in her time of mourning.

A terrible time.

This woman pioneered fair-trade, human rights, beauty without cruelty… All this and still she made a fortune. She worked for feminism by getting her hands dirty, by challenging the male-dominated world of business with her fair-minded ethics and humanitarian integrity. She was the best role-model a girl could have when I was younger.

I mourn her loss, yet celebrate her achievements. There’s a new and very bright star in the skies tonight.