[ katie bush smoking biftas ]

"All yours, Babooshka, Babooshka, Babooshka-ya-ya!"

The inhabitants of a remote Russian village awoke to find their beloved lake to have disappeared, during the night.

The russian TV-channel NTV showed yesterday pictures of a gigantic hole of mud, while fishermen from the village didn’t know what to think, the news reports.

Among the villagers, conspiracy theories ripen in abundance.

But the mystery could also have found itself caused by yet another subliminal and fantastic phenomenon.

It might have simply been swept away from the tired and mundane rigmarole of earthly reality, by the warbly, quirky voice of Kate Bush, teasing and elevating the watery mass into a weightless sphere, a shiny hovering bubble floating above us in the sky, up, up, up and up, into the parallel reality which is Katie Cathy wonderland.

There, the lake will settle down and have a life of its own, sealilies will float gracefully while carp and (freshwater) dolphins dance to a band of panto Harlequins on the shore, standing under the Shinto gate chanting songs of Wicker Men and rudegirl christmas jigs.
And it will snow and be summer at the same time, and birds of passage in the sky will open their tiny, fragile beaks and unleash clusters of balloons and fireworks, while a bridge of driftwood boards will erupt from the sparkly water, unraveling the oyster Shell of Mysteries which holds all the secrets of Life and Jam and universal unity.
And Katie will be there, too, shaking hands with everyone and offering champagne and dance and yummy jaffa cakes, while a choir of sailors sing their seaside shanties before turning into centaurs and galloping away with naughty houyhnhnms, lobelias and lilies blossoming in their path.
-And when they leave, everyone will be happy.

"My radar send me danger/
But my instincts tell me to/
Keep breathing"-