So, so many things are weighing me down right now.
Constantly being told what to do, noisy places, etc..
But the visual of the Grand Canyon in Thunderbird 6 hits me imaginatively.
Now, I imagine me and my puppet friends worshipping the Red Earth.
The loudness and shouts of the 2020’s halts, and nature’s music fills the air.
Everything is shaded in soft sunset pinks and oranges, much like what you see in Brother Bear.
It’s just me and all known International Rescue members, altogether as a family.
Unclothed, primitive and tribal, we worship the spirits of the bare Earth.
Lady Penelope would be my mother, as in all my fantasies, a young, wise femme of nurturing wisdom.
Tin Tin Kyrano worships water, and immerse me and herself in the cool lake, embracing the sensuality of the water.
Alan feels the true freedom of manhood, and loves relaxing with me in the shade of the large oak tree in the meadow.
Brains is shy and quiet, and is caring to all the animals roaming the plain - such as deer and squirrels and birds and such.
Parker surrounds himself in cotton flowers and loves sleeping a lot. He loves playing with me sometimes, no matter how lazy he is.
Jeff Tracy is our leader - wise, caring experienced in his prime, with a soft spot for me, always on hand to give me wisdom when I’m in trouble.
Scott may be brash and the oldest of Jeff’s sons, but he develops a soft spot for me too. He loves being at peace with the minimalism of nature.
Virgil, as calm and collected as he was from my escape source, lives in pure harmony with the creatures of the forest, and is as gentle to them all as Brains is.
Gordon lives to be free with the beach. When the time comes, he and I would run out onto the sand and dive into the ocean, splashing each other and laughing excitedly.
And John? As always, no longer is he a loner. He may hunt the food for us, but he shows me the teachings of the spirits young and old among the night sky stars.
Now, you've thought that like other tribes, we’d jump up and down, dancing and shouting and making stereotypical Indian noises.
Not here we’re not. It’s something completely different. So different it will gently pull your sweaty socks off.
Every evening at sundown, we’d gather when the sun goes down and relax around a big, roaring fire.
We’d share raw impala meat hunted by John - and sometimes Scott - out on the Savannah, and we’d relax and talk a little.
It’s such a quiet atmosphere that I’d stare into the warm glow of the flames, as if my ancestors were talking to me.
My mummy Lady Penelope would spend time snuggling me, keeping me close, soft and warm, protecting me under the cold, black sky.
At bedtime, Penelope just lies in a peaceful corner with me in her arms, and we’d drift off to sleep out of pure love.
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