Day and Night on the Kenvil Cape

It was a rare interlude for the furley youth of Kenvil to be indoors, but there they were, enrapt with the teleprompter’s transmissions one late afternoon.
  A knock at the door set off their juvenile peevishness — ‘What is this interruption?’
  Father Nadoghy opened the door and welcomed in an elder gentleman, apparently a local acquaintance. The tall man was sporting a patterned neckerchief and navy beret, as well as a bright grin.
  “I’m gonna be on the teleprompter tonight!” he chirped.
  The old gent disclosed to Father Nadoghy details of some on-camera interview at Madeira Selváge regarding some picayune local issue. The irritated youth silently sulked at the obtrusion. The two fellows made small talk before the visitor left.
  Come evening, Father Nadoghy and the Kenvil gang were gathered around the teleprompter.
  “There he is!” someone pointed out. Indeed, the gentleman’s image flickered in the static of the monochrome screen. He was wearing the same getup as earlier, expounding into a mic with the Atlantic sun beaming down on his shoulders.
  But the inquisitive youth were confused.
  “It’s nighttime here and day there,” a youngster piped up. “The solar terminator must be here on the cape!”
  An understandable illusion in the young man’s eyes, similar to the day he watched the moon's “rotation” via Troxel-Scope — the moving lunar terminator was not a sign of rotation, but simply the heavenly body’s orbital motion passing through the Troxel-Scope’s field of vision at the time.
  But cut the kid some Slack for not completely grasping the idea of planetary physics. Or the concept of videotape playback.

Kenvil Marathoners at Scott Tower

A pall of dust churned up under the dry summer sun as dozens of feet set into motion around Scott Tower. The furley youth of Kenvil were there in their entirety -- Malinconico, Scarlatti, Chuckie and Sis, and the Josefska clan.
  The makeshift footrace began soon after the noon whistle blared in the distance. Few rules applied in the kids’ spontaneous game without the hectoring of hovering parents. They simply ran in wide circles around the sandlot’s tower.
  The initial dash became a spirited trot as participants realised this was a contest not of speed or distance, but of endurance. The sound of panting and sneakers chuffing through sand carried over the nonexistant breeze. One by one the kids eventually dropped out to collapse in the weeds gasping for breath.
  The race was down to Malinconico and one of the Josefska boys, around and around, jogging side by side. The brunt of a bleary sun wrenched sweat from the two trying to keep pace with each other. No one thought anything about “hydrating” in those days, though it is certain the cool waters of the bay were on both their minds, it being a mere four blocks away from this arid parcel.
  The young men slowed to a sluggish gait, and then soon to a stagger. Step by step, each’s sight drenched and blurred as a final footfall kicked up one last cloud of dust.
  Malinconico dropped to his knees in the rasping sand. Out of breath, Josefska wordlessly raised his arm in victory and then crumpled to the ground as well.
  The Kenvil youth cheered, seemingly not for a single victor, but in acknowledgement of their entente in the spirit of communal engagement.

  “Hip hip hoorah!”

Cue for the Aromas: Assortment α

Witch Hazel: The brisk astringent used for topical relief during the Kenvil summers against troublesome trombiculidae attacks.

Comino: The fundamental spice slowly drifts through the high ducted ceilings of Los Amigos en Berlín Oeste.
¡Abre las puertas al sabor!

The Char of Binchotan: Whiff of carbonised meat coming off the sizzling yakitori grills, breezing through the swaying noren.
Irasshaimase!

Relic Retrieval: S’quatch Totem

A Fourth/Fifth Stratum icon was physically retrieved recently from the mists of time. The S’quatch Totem was a talisman alluded to in several representational iterations in past communiqués.
  And now the real thing is in our hands, unearthed from the old Sastoqué Châsse.
  Restoration of the relic was neither difficult nor time-consuming. After having spent so many years hidden within the châsse in the Armoire Secrète de la Loge, the amulet's condition was wholly intact.
  When meticulously examining the adornments within, restorers discovered other relics of note: Shamrock Five, whalebone from the Kenvil marina, silica samples from Blue Sands — stories from and for another time.
  Now in the proper reliquary under glass, the S’quatch Totem is in good hands for Stratum XLVII.

The Kenvil Putters

A climb in the Persian silk tree amidst the sore bees’ hum
Roly balance-cavorting on a wooden cable drum
June hibachi picnic with thunder under foot
Crafting scrap-wood ropy boat models in the old tool hut

The green atop the sandy soil grand for growing veg
Crazy Phillip and hounds stew beyond the sleepy hedge
Shaking at the wisping clouds he paces and he sputters
Nothing more to see here but the furley Kenvil Putters

Pirate City 2018

The ancient magnesite plant a few kilometres down the shore from Kenvil has been reborn. The furley youngsters are definitely on board for this vigourous revisioning for tomorrow’s sake.

JEFON II

Courier One: “How shall the vessel be christened?”
Master Stoddard: “With mighty Neptune’s benediction, she shall be known as JEFON II.”

  Her launch was most likely from the shores of Lac des Cloches in an early stratum summer. The craft would navigate the waters with aplomb, cruising by the free-floating Quai des Anguilles.
  The JEFON II would avoid the concrete dam at the North End, lest it be pulled over the edge.
  The ship also avoided the Baie du Lenapes at Kenvil — a filthy body of water downstream from Shakamaxon, filled with iceberg hazards and urban detritus.
  Most memorably, the JEFON II would sail the blue seas at Medeira Selváge, with the famed Reges Tower in sight. Other ships would pass by in admiration, such as the “Pop-Eye” sightseeing boats, the Swandale ferries, and the P.V.S. Ayrshire Urie.
  So what happened to this fine ship?
  It is not certain, but it is thought that the JEFON II escaped its moorings at Crique de Yanick sometime after the move to the East Bank after Stratum V.

The View from Kenvil: Pirate City

The boys on Kenvil could see it against the horizon a few kilometres down the shore. Silhouettes of smokestacks puffing their white effluvium, diagonal conveyors, conical mix silos... and no sign of human activity.
To furley youngsters of the early strata, the sight energises the imagination: Behold this bayside spectacle — Pirate City.

Cue for the Visions: Blue Star

The end of the trek from Kenvil to Madeira Selváge
finds hostels of neon in the velvet eve
Water ripples, shimmering
with the lights of the town
Beneath the warm sea surface gazes
the eyes of the mermaid