… i am
… living under a pink sky
based on photography by Mary R. Vogt and Clara Natoli. Thank you!
By now it was nothing unusual that the small lava pool was surrounded by more than twenty radio amateurs even in the scorching noon sun. It was so every day, for at least two months now, ever since that nosy newspaper man published the article letting the world know of the strange radio waves that could be picked up around it. There were many theories, the main one was that somehow the top of the dormant mini-volcano was somehow connected to a deeper magmatic receiver which was itself picking up signals from distant outer space, and that was the reason why they seemed to sound almost like a language that people felt they could understand but somehow still escaped them.
Things today ended very differently, as for the first time that … thiiing flew out of it, splashing hot lava in all directions over the screaming audience with what looked almost like a retarded boredom. It’s lack of interest towards the panicked group of amateur and professional scientific observers was the thing that most struck them, and the one detail they could all remember and agree on when at the hospital they related the experienced to agitated but useless municipal authorities.
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