#Cyprus Mail

[kyreniacommentator]

Fahri Zihni: From animal cruelty to political inconsistencies

Fahri Zihni: From animal cruelty to political inconsistencies Readers mail…. From Fahri Zihni…. Hello, Chris I hope you are well and would like to ask if you would kindly share my latest Cyprus Mail article through CyprusScene with your worldwide readers. Thank you and with best wishes Fahri Continue reading Fahri Zihni: From animal cruelty to political inconsistencies

[cyprusvamp]

Hi my bunny ears and tail came in and they’re very, very cute

[susiestamps]

CY 2013 0.43€ Sea Anemone (Actiniaria sp.) CY 2013 0.02€ Obligatory Refugee Fund Tax

[possiblyunhinged]

The real instigators of this violence don’t fit the stereotypes people are pushing, and claiming this rage was arbitrarily birthed is insane. It’s been fuelled by journalists, ‘politicians,’ unemployed men turned social media rage-baiters and ‘good’ people who have done nothing.

Laurence Fox has pissed off out of the country after tweeting about starting a war. Tommy Robinson was catching a tan at a resort in Cyprus whilst his minions were burning down libraries and attacking mosques. The Daily Mail is now writing classist articles after YEARS of rage-baiting working-class people, similar to how they used to write about the impending ‘invasion,’ the language their journalists used whilst spouting their support for Hitler.

So many of these chodes claim to be great inspectors of history yet FAIL to see the patterns that liken this to the rise of fascism that led to Nazi Germany.

Tommy Robinson, Laurence Fox, Katie Hopkins, Nigel Farage, and their ilk should be in fucking prison. Rupert Murdoch should be in a fucking courtroom, being sued until his final breath. And we should make critical thinking and fascist ideology mandatory teaching the moment kids start secondary school.

If you want to talk about 'two tier policing'... why isn't Murdoch and Musk being held accountable? Twitter is now a glorified 4Chan. Murdoch's media has laid the foundations for fascism and are now acting surprised to see the effects of that.

Applauding the arrests of protestors is understandable because a fascist being arrested and crying in court will always be delicious. However, without holding those responsible for this mess accountable, we are doomed.

Pls can someone let the chodes know that there's a difference between protecting freedom of speech and inciting violence because it's doing my fucking head in xoxo

[lgbtpopcult]

Greens propose law allowing same-sex couples to adopt children | Cyprus Mail

[allthesewastednuts-folkpunk]

Very happy to be a part of this mixtape that dropped on May 1st

"In celebration of May Day, the Folk Punk Folks have released a compilation album! Available for streaming on bandcamp for free, however if you would like a physical copy, we have a limited run of 300 CDs I'll be mailing out!"

- @blackofclunes

@audreyxplath, @dalyrose_, @birdsontheground @bri.carmel, @cyp_hart, @skelletones, @shugemusic, @skirtchaser, @manhattanmurphy, @micksey, @quiverthebusker, @chloe_defector, @belladonna_ciao, @git_schmeked, @small_void__, @drunkpassenger, @skouf_the_goof, @queernabs, @_who_____cares___, @atwn_folkpunk, @officialvirtualbird

Track list:

1. Larry the Cable Guy Backshots - Burn Bright 03:42

2. Daly Rose - Overpass 02:38

3. Birds on the Ground - Rationalize This 01:11

4. Brianna Carmel - Emily Orphan 02:18

5. Clunes - This is Not OK 02:34

6. Cyprus Hartford - Helicopters 05:09

7. Hedgehog Revolution - Pachelbel's Steel Canon 05:09

8. ShugE - Thinking About Drinking Again 04:30

9. Skirtchaser - Irony and Whine 01:14

10. Quiver The Busker - Anti-Nihlist 02:41

11. MANNY - Caprisun Superman 02:32

12. Micksey - I'm the Dead Center of Your Little Dartboard 02:03

13. Foxes in the Skip - Looking for Hookups 03:39

14. Chloe Defector - Love Me More 01:55

15. Belladonna Ciao - Fragile 02:58

16. Schmeckle the Geckle - Ditch Diggin' 02:54

17. Small Void - Farewell 4 Something I can Touch (for Rosalie's travels) 05:42

18. drunkpassenger - Bedside Activist 02:49

19. Skouf the Goof - St. James Infirmary Blues 03:50

20. Queernabs - Anxiety Song 02:47

21. The Catty Wampus Jazz Band - Release the Hounds! (harmonica chaotica version) 01:54

22. Who Cares - Life Combined 02:35

23. All These Wasted Nuts/Virtual Bird - Frustration 02:53

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Shaun Catmother (@shauncatmother)

[thespiritofvexation]

Some old Imperiet hate mail [via Thåström's official facebook page]

"Hi Imperiet!

I am a 10 year old girl. I come from Cyprus but live in Sweden. That is absolutely not strange. I have written this letter to tell you something. I am not shy or anything like that. Here I go:

I THINK THAT YOU ARE VERY BAD!

That is why I wanted to write to you.

Good bye

Many greetings

An anonymous 77'er [person born 1977]

PS. I include a photo of you that I found in Donald Duck [comics magazine] DS"

[zvaigzdelasas]

[Cyprus Mail is Greek-Cypriot Private Media]

Turkish Cypriot Leader Ersin Tatar on Friday urged countries stationing troops and military equipment in Cyprus to “not involve” the island in the ongoing crisis.[...]

He said, “as a guarantor country, the United Kingdom has sovereign bases in Cyprus, but they and other countries should not involve Cyprus in such a painful tragedy”.

In addition, he reiterated his criticism of the arrival of German special forces on the island, saying “the Republic of Turkey is a guarantor country and must be notified of such decisions. Unilateral steps are not right.”

26 Oct 23

[ama-artistic]

Come a work in my banan shop

Part 5

Following the hurried departure of their uninvited guests, Cyprus releases a sigh of mixed relief and anxiety. The cost of the damages to their home remains a daunting uncertainty, a concern that's only briefly interrupted by the familiar sound of the mail pony delivering the day's post.

Eager to momentarily distract themselves from their current predicament, Cyprus checks the mailbox. An unexpected surprise awaits them - a banana-scented letter. The message is short and to the point: "Come work in my banana shop." Cyprus mulls over this proposal as they gaze at the glowing city on the horizon. The idea of a new venture seems appealing, perhaps even promising. Yet, the dread of societal judgment and the paralysis of indecision cast a long shadow on their thoughts. "This might work," they muse, but the apprehension lingers, making the path forward seem all the more uncertain.

Part 4 - https://www.tumblr.com/ama-artistic/719259457687863296/solar-and-twilight-use-their-magic-to-hold

[kyreniacommentator]

Fahri Zihni: The monumental carnage taking place in Gaza

Fahri Zihni: The monumental carnage taking place in Gaza Readers mail…. From Fahri Zihni…. Hello, Chris please would you share with your CyprusScene worldwide readers my article in the Cyprus Mail of 11th August 2024 which is not happy reading I am afraid. Thank you and with best wishes Fahri Continue reading Fahri Zihni: The monumental carnage taking place in Gaza

[reyenii]

a few random stories about paddy & eoin from the book:

1. alongside the technical advances made in speeding up deliveries, eoin and blair did their bit in 'encouraging' those involved in processing the men's correspondence to do so as quickly as possible. again, the tale is difficult to confirm, but it is said that in response to complaints from the men that the mail from home was being delivered late, eoin and blair took it upon themselves to give their unfortunate postmaster and his colleagues 'a good thrashing'. whether it improved efficiency is not known but it probably did the men's morale no end of good.

2. a final image to leave in the memory is the now infamous tale of eoin and blair riding bareback across the sands in cyprus. recalling the spirit of the ancient warrior celts who would go into battle bearing only their shield and a sword (or perhaps they were just 'three sheets to the wind'), they had been swimming with other commandos from layforce, spotted the horses, challenged each other to a race and each hopped on and tore off across the beach. what a scene! no doubt, the ORs in whose minds the image was firmly fixed were left with a pretty strong impression of the madmen from ulster.

3. eoin was described as a 'super shot', and because both he and blair ran the commando shooting range packages (pistol and tommy gun training) during their time on arran, they had access to virtually unlimited ammunition, and according to bryan , 'they were not slow to use their pistols around [landour] house.' it seems they took their work seriously and were not averse to putting in some extra shooting practice at home. it was possibly one of the most dangerous periods of the war for any of them and a miracle there were no mishaps!’

[salvadorbonaparte]

To recap the last two days

4th of December. We know there's some problems with snow in Munich but our travel agency told us it's fine and that the worst that can happen is the entire flight being rerouted to a different city in Germany. We have a 2h taxi transfer to the airport and arrive at 11am. We check in and are told the connecting flight from Munich to Hannover was cancelled but that we can get a later flight the same day. It would be a 6h hour layover but it would be fine. We go through security. The timetable says something like "gate info in 217 mins" and I'm like surely that's a typo. We figure out the scheduled gate where someone tells us the Lufthansa website says the flight is delayed by 20 mins. We check the airport website and it says it's delayed by 3h. There's absolutely no one at the gate. A couple minutes later I refresh the page and the flight status is changed to cancelled. At the same time I get an email with a job rejection. Still no one at the gate. 20 minutes later someone confirms the cancellation and we all have to check out and go through security again and leave the airport then get told to simply call or email the airline and we all have a budget of 150€ for one day per person for a taxi and hotel and food. Which we all have to sort out ourselves. Lufthansa cannot be reached by phone, mail or chat bot because they're completely swamped with complaints. Our travel agency doesn't even know our flight is cancelled. We wait for almost 3h for our travel agency to find a new flight for us - which they couldn't book remotely - and we're told that a hotel is still our responsibility. We're told to find a Lufthansa office which doesn't exist and only by chance figure out where to go. We go inside the airport again at 4pm and physically stand in a queue until 9pm without food or water or the possibility to sit down - even though my mum has a mobility issue - until we can reschedule our flight. There's two people sharing one computer handling every single case. Two people were allowed to cut in line but I was told off for asking a question. Some people had to accept 4am flights through Serbia and one couple was told the only option was to fly to Greece and from there to Munich even though the company was aware the flight would be cancelled again and they'd just get stuck in a second country. We book a hotel afterwards and arrive there at 10pm. We order food online since their kitchen is already closed.

5th of December. We get up at 4am and are back at the airport at 6am. We're wearing the same clothes since we only packed for a week and have no clean shirts or underwear or anything. We drink a bad coffee, buy a croissant and board an airplane to London at 8:35am with half an hour delay. I have a middle seat. The business class is half empty with several people taking a whole row to stretch out and sleep while we know there's still other people stuck in Cyprus who were told this flight was full. The flight is 5h long. My mum has a high risk of thrombosis and no access to medication. We get a single bottle of water and a flapjack. At some point I try to go to the bathroom and am told to quickly go back to my seat and fasten my seat belt because we're about to experience heavy turbulence. A stewardess walks through the aisles saying the same. I panic. Absolutely nothing happens. Zero turbulence. By the time we're allowed to stand up again there's 6 people in the bathroom queue before me and I'm told I'm not allowed to stand in the aisle and have to wait at my seat. By the time I sit down other people have already joined the queue again. At some point the purser in the business class takes pity on me and I'm allowed to use the business class bathroom. We fly two time zones West and arrive at 11am (mentally 1pm) starving and with aching legs. We have to go through security again and have to throw away our water. My mum gets randomly selected for a security check. The airport is busier than I've ever seen it and I've been at Heathrow multiple times each year when I studied in England. People are inconsiderate and even aggressive. We eat a sandwich and try to buy some painkillers. Our layover is another 5h. An hour before our flight I suddenly get a panic attack that gives me muscle spasms and I just about manage to board the plane. By the time we board I have to pee really badly because I downed an entire bottle of coconut water to get my blood circulation back up after the panic attack. We have a half hour delay because there's unfinished paperwork. Another middle seat. I get up to go to the bathroom as soon as we reached cruising height and use the bathroom at the front of the airplane because they didn't close the business class curtains and I know they sometimes don't bother on this short flight. When I come back the curtains are drawn and I'm told off for crossing the curtains. We land at just after 7pm German time because of the delay in the third time zone of the day. We arrive home at 8pm.

[mynameis-noe-body]

Professor Severus Snape × Original Female Character

Summary:

Licorice Hatch has traveled the world, fulfilling her dream of becoming one of the most famous writers and reporters in the Wizarding World. Now, she is coming back. Merlin only knows the turmoil she has caused in the heart of her dark, splendid professor. And at the very thought — eager to hold her in his arms again — Severus can't help but relive their whole story, from the very beginning, when it all started with a Wilbur Smith's book and... a two-month detention!

Or — OC was a Slytherin student, but through the years her relationship with professor Snape developed from a platonic friendship to true love. AU - no Second Wizarding War & start from the 4th Year.

Warnings: None (no underage relationship)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete

Here the first chapter.

▪️▪️▪️

Five years.

One hundred and fifty letters exchanged.

About three hundred stamps, including those for priority and international mail. Ireland, Netherlands, France, Germany, Portugal, Italy, Spain and the Canary Islands, Bulgaria, Macedonia, Turkey, Armenia, Egypt, Cape Verde, the island of Cyprus, Morocco, and back north to Norway and the Svalbard Islands — yes, he had read them all.

And he had kept all the dozens — dozens, dozens — of photographs, tickets, newspaper clippings, pamphlets and so on and so forth; he had had to empty a trunk to put everything away.

Severus had never considered himself a sentimental man, yet he'd never allow any of his old friends to cross the threshold of his study only to discover the inkblots on the scribbled parchment, signed with his first name and, on top on the page, that usual «My dear Licorice». My dear — it had become ridiculous how he had found himself waiting for her letter, punctual every two weeks for five years, coming from all over Europe and beyond.

Severus knotted his tie glancing at the invitation, opened on the table in front of the fireplace. It was going to be a formal event, the Quibbler's twentieth birthday, the Lovegood's magazine; it had been unexpected, she hadn't warned him of the precedence of her return to England. A flush of heat tinted lightly his cheeks red, and he found himself berating — an old fool, that's who he was. Fortunately, Albus was no longer there to tease his idiosyncrasies.

Severus closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and grabbed the card with the typical annoyance that had accompanied him for a lifetime; the flames in the fireplace trembled and the Headmistress shrill voice called to him. "Are you ready? I'm going now with Filius but I very much hope you want to join us, Severus."

He nodded. "I'll be there, Minerva."

The flame vanished with a puff of ash. His hand hesitated over the jar of Floo Powder. Another mirror check, just to make sure the knot is neat. Severus had never considered himself a vain man — good Merlin, no, no. He had never found anything particularly interesting in his physical appearance of him. Nothing worth paying attention to more than the five minutes it took to brush his teeth twice a day and shave three times a week. Yet now that he was wearing a new midnight blue suit (and had combed his hair, had shaved even though it didn't seem necessary, and had tried — unsuccessfully — to choose a perfume) he felt decidedly uncomfortable. He cursed the girl, again. Severus squeezed the invitation in his pocket thinking he would give up, but the very idea of missing this opportunity made him miserable. You won a war, get some self-love good God. And with a final flash of resolution, Severus grabbed the Floo, stepped into the chimney, and traveled to the Quibbler's London headquarters.

—————

It was a warm evening on the rooftops of London. From that terrace lit in purple and gold one could admire the whole city; the artificial lights of the Muggle streets were magically extinguished under the transparent dome that hid them from prying eyes, and entire constellations unfolded in the sky like a mantle of precious stones set in velvet. Severus avoided the crowd. Minerva had dragged him here — to congratulate the Lovegood family, and to rejoin old friends from Hogwarts — and there — to shake hands with the members of the Ministry who had been invited; it had been forty-five unbearable minutes of intercourse and pointless chatter, with the one exception of Luna Lovegood — surprisingly. The girl had always had an aura of genius around her, from a certain point of view, and the newspaper had achieved new popularity in the wizarding world thanks to her.

She approached him — saving him from the gang of little journalists who were hoping to extort him who knows what interview - and offered him wine. "I knew you were coming, Mr. Snape" Luna affirmed with a dreamlike smile. "Although I also know that you aren't particularly interested in the company of the other guests, nor in mine." Severus nodded, without adding anything. "Have you met Licorice yet? She is very impatient to meet you, but they keep interrupting. So rude, isn't it?"

"Is she?" he asked, sounding more interested than he wanted. Too many years had passed, it was unlikely to be true — even though he didn't remember Miss Lovegood having ever lied in her entire career.

She brightened up. "It will be a splendid reunion, yours. This evening is surprisingly devoid of nargles, there is a very positive energy." And then she began to tell about the latest edition of the Quibbler which was to be published the following week; she revealed the titles of the articles to him in advance, and only at the end did she promise she would find Miss Hatch for him.

"There is no rush, Miss Lovegood. I'm sure Miss Hatch will have other impediments to deal with at the moment."

Luna shook her head. "Nonsense, she has done nothing but ask about you since she came back" and with these words she disappeared.

He sighed, keeping himself from brooding too much. The glass of Syrah in his hand was infinitely more attractive than his thoughts. However, hiding behind the shimmering crystal of his goblet hadn't been enough to escape Mr. Potter; the boy had grown up, undoubtedly, and if he were really interested about him the wedding ring on his left hand would have had a strange effect, but Severus had seen many students grow up, become adults and start their own lives over the course of nearly twenty years of teaching. It wasn't new.

Harry approached with an outstretched hand and a friendly smile. "I'm glad to see you here, professor. It's been a while."

Severus returned the gesture. "Since Granger and Weasley's wedding. And I don't have to remind you that I'm no longer a Hogwarts professor, do I Potter?"

"No sir. The Devon is good for your health, you look good."

Severus nodded. The boy — that young man — at least seemed as uncomfortable as he was. For some reason Harry had never stopped insisting; letters, invitations, Christmas cards. He never answered. "And how is Mrs. Potter? I haven't seen her yet."

"Oh no," Harry replied, with a smile "Ginny stayed home, the pregnancy is starting to be tiring and she needs rest." So they exchanged a few more words: Harry was excited about becoming a father, told him about their new home near the Burrow and how Hermione and Ron had preferred to move to London for the time being, and had the decency not to ask him many personal questions. When he confessed he had read his publications on Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, Severus rolled his eyes and didn't even try to look flattered. His gaze ran bored over the crowd as the boy continued to speak.

"...another drink?" Potter asked.

The terrace slowly emptied as the remaining couples moved to the center. The speeches of thanks had stopped, light classical music floated in the air; Severus knew it was time to move and accepted another glass of wine with a defeated sigh. The bar was packed with people, many crowded in line for yet another cocktail and it was the perfect — terrifing — opportunity to reconnect with old, unpleasant acquaintances.

Harry raised his hand and greeted someone. Obviously, Severus thought. Two pairs of eyes turned towards them: Sirius Black approached, clutching a Campari with ice in his hand and accompanying a young, beautiful woman beside him. Snape was sure he hadn't seen her before; she wore a long black dress with two dizzying slits showing her tanned legs. When Sirius hugged Harry, she smiled at him.

"Ah, Snape" Black commented. His small black eyes giggled, studying the unusual blue suit - which actually fit him perfectly. "I heard you moved to the country side. How's life in the middle of nowhere?"

Severus didn't even waste the breath he needed to snort. "Torquay is hardly the middle of nowhere, Black — if I were you I'd think before I utter even a single word."

Harry had to intervene, for the umpteenth time, trying to avoid the nascent discussion and turned his attention to the music, commenting on the lovely evening that Luna had organized. Sirius nodded. "You are absolutely right, Harry. Dearest," Black turned to the young woman, showing off his best smile "would you like to dance?"

She grinned, a light of resolve illuminated her gaze. "Indeed yes" she replied, but she refused Sirius's hand when he offered it. "I would very much like to dance with you, professor Snape."

Sirius gasped, shocked. Snape smirked.

Oh, Severus wouldn't have let an opportunity like that pass by; rarely — perhaps never — such a beautiful woman would have preferred his hand to Black's, and now he could enjoy this little revenge. He slipped his hand down the woman's back, touching the bare skin with his fingertips to the hem of her dress, and led her onto the dance floor giving Balck one last defiant look. Then, finally, he moved his eyes to that lovely creature.

She was young, much younger than him. And she was smiling, still. She wasn't hesitant, but her hand rested on his shoulder with reverence, so light he could barely feel her through his jacket.

"I must inform you" he said, "that I'm not a professor, not anymore. It's been five years."

She giggled and nodded, starting to swing in his arms. Someone had given them a few curious looks, but he pretended not to notice, as always. "Yes, I know" she replied. "How do you find the evening?"

He shrugged, looked around to glare at the newly weds Weasleys, and sighed. "Dreadful. Still, the wine was delicious."

"That's all?" the whispered question sounded more like a challenge, a playful provocation. "Only... the wine?"

She was delightful. She was warm, bright. Severus had learned not to ask himself why a pleasant thing could happen to him; he spun her around before taking her back into his arms, she laughed and it was a sweet sound. And she looked at him. Her eyes were greedy, as if she were eagerly trying to quench her curiosity, to steal all his attention and the more she smiled at him like that — completely enraptured — the more he forgot everything that was around them. Delicious, indeed.

"I would say my evening has definitely, if unexpectedly, improved" Severus replied. His eyes darted to Sirius for a moment, enjoying his palpable nervousness, and he smirked.

She shook her head. "Hmm, that's so unfair," she muttered, amused. Severus lost himself in her bewitched gaze, mesmerized by her. He didn't know what to think; he just held her a little closer to his chest. She smelled good, lovely — familiar and comforting, somehow. "You take pleasure in the little revenge against your enemy, yet you have a young, beautiful woman in the palm of your hands, literally." And it was true. The song had changed, but she didn't let go: she took his hand and did another pirouette, leaving him baffled as she came closer and put both hands behind his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. If he blushed, she didn't notice. "And you didn't even ask me my name, did you?"

Severus was ashamed. It was in his habit to be rude and intractable, but not in his nature to be so terribly distracted. His back suddenly stiffened, his gaze turned hard and stern, but she just giggled in amusement, shaking her head. "God — you haven't recognized me yet, have you? And I thought you were waiting for my return!"

Words echoed in his mind and memories. Severus paled imperceptibly. His fingers dug into the hips of the young woman in front of him and he pulled her away to look at her a little better; she blushed, guilty.

"Licorice Hatch" he breathed.

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she didn't cry. "Finally, Severus."

If you love this story, keep reading here & please consider following me. That would be deeply appreciated. Thank you. 🖤

[collapsedsquid]

Johan Vollenbroek is accustomed to threats on his life. On a cold January day, as he was opening his mail at his home in the Dutch city of Nijmegen, a fine powder spilled from an envelope.

With the calmness of a trained chemist, Vollenbroek closed the package, washed his hands and dialed the police contact number he’s been told to use to report death threats. The police arrived in full protective gear. It turned out to be silicate, a benign chemical sent with malign intent, but it was not the first time the 73-year-old had received a menacing letter.

[...]

Dutch farmers are quite literally a national treasure. Ever since the mid-19th century, their ability to produce greater yields per acre than their German or French neighbors meant vast wealth was able to be made by selling produce to the rest of Europe. In the spring of 1886, the French embassy in Amsterdam invited Claude Monet to paint the tulip fields on the outskirts of The Hague. The sights left the great master nursing his limitations. Holland’s empire of dirt was “impossible to convey with our poor colors,” he wrote to a friend.

[....]

It was perhaps inevitable that Vollenbroek would eventually train his sights on the country’s farms. The Netherlands is awash with ammonia, the nitrogen-rich gas released by animal manure. In satellite imagery that detects the airborne chemical, the country sits under an angry red splodge. Since the 1970s, Dutch governments have nibbled at the problem without opting for real solutions. In 1993, the U.N.’s Economic Commission for Europe called the vast quantities of farm waste “a typically Dutch problem.” Technical fixes, like adding air filters to barns, have helped a bit. But the amount of nitrogen dumped onto every acre of farmed land remains three times the EU average, second only to Cyprus in the 27-country bloc.

While nitrogen is an essential building block of life, in large quantities it becomes a toxic killer. Some fast-growing plants thrive on it and turn into monstrous ecosystem overlords. Smaller, rarer species, like herbs, lichens and mosses, are driven out. Across the Netherlands, but especially in sensitive grasslands and marshes, the soil is turning increasingly acidic. In waterways, nitrogen spurs algal growth, sucking oxygen from the water. Fish suffocate.

Vollenbroek likes to jog in the forests around Nijmegen, where, he said, the undergrowth has been replaced by a snarl of nitrogen-loving nettles. “Where are we heading to?” he asked. “It seems like the ‘Silent Spring’ for Rachel Carson is coming back again” — a reference to the 1962 book that launched the environmental movement.

For Vollenbroek, nitrogen is just the easiest target. Combined with Dutch and EU law, it provides the leverage he needs to force the government to act. But if he succeeds in slashing the number of animals the Dutch farm, he’ll also be tackling a far bigger problem. Agriculture, mainly meat and dairy production, is the source of 12 percent of the EU’s greenhouse gas emissions, which the bloc aims to zero out overall by 2050.

[dwellerinthelibrary]

The Lady of Lemba: dark side of an ancient statue (Cyprus Mail, November 2022). "Endless videos on the internet portray one of Cyprus’ most famous artefacts as the Goddess of Death – great story, but they are all hoax."