Ste Abattoir des Chevres Pres de la Mer

Well. I suppose it has been long enough, that is, enough time has passed since my last post--a truncated one initially concerned about Ste Abattoir des Chevres Pres de la Mer--and since The Apparatus did not come knocking on my door in the middle of the night I feel elusively comfortable enough to post a real look at that dubiously well-heeled little town south of Soybean island City.

Here, in all its infamous glory, is Ste Abattoir des Chevres Pres de la Mer:

Quite the boring place--am I right or am I right?

Here is what constitutes downtown for the little town:

If you think this looks a lot like a country club--that is, an American version--and is as green as a golf course, then BINGO! You would be correct . . .

Of course, the name of the town is quite odd. It is also convoluted enough that I don't even care to repeat it that often in this post. But suffice it to say that--to the best of my understanding--the island that is Soybean Island at one time was overrun by goats. They were more numerous than the people, that is, the aboriginals who inhabited this forbidding jot of land in the ocean (an ocean, I once again remind you, that I have never seen, am unable to see, am forbidden to see as a member of the Prisoner Class, the Exile Class, the Renditioned Class of the Disappeared), a tribe of people who have disappeared much like the goats . . .

The goats were slaughtered here--or rather, there--in Ste Abattoir des Chevers Pres de la Mer. Perhaps the natives were slaughtered as well? Yes. Perhaps indeed . . .

So, we are left with the grandeur of what it is now--and I mean that in a very deprecating way:

To paraphrase a deceased American writer: "There is no there there" there.

And an English writer:

"More please":

My. How pleasant.

And pleasanter still?:

I have no idea.

Look!

                                                 See the Snails!

                                                       Smell the Flowers!
                                                     Visit Soybean Island



Ah. Such a tapestry of beauty and function and mowed grass and plants and mollusky gastropods and middling existence! What more can be seen in such a place as Ste Abattoir des Chevres Pres de la Mer?

This, I guess:

And even here, here is a tree who has misbehaved and put in shackles:

But we will have none of that. No. Let's look at this pointless repetitious and roundabout photo:

There. Now I feel better. And I have no plans to return to Ste Abattoir des Cheveres Pres de la Mer.

That is all I have to report. So, until next time if there is a next time:

Goodbye from Soybean Island,

#1957