Spring in Tripoli...

It takes alot of work growing a nation. Democracy just doesn't bloom on its own, it takes feet on the ground and wings in the air.

Workers, revolutionaries fly from city to city, spreading the ideas of open government, an end to secret police and economic reforms.

There are always dangers. The bee keepers who profit from your captivity, harvest your dreams and mix it in their tea. Whole industries are based on your servitude and they won't go away willingly. So the bees start to sting for their freedom.

Help arrives from abroad. But are these farmers assisting for bee-manitarian reasons or do they want to insure the reliable flow of honey? Time will tell.

Photo: Dogwood bloom (I think) taken with iPhone3Gs, Hipstamatic app (Tejas, Blanko Noir)

Spring in Bangazi

We perceive it in our minds - an idea, the fragrance of choices. Our generation is blooming, covering the sky. Our feet rooted, soaked in sweat and blood, our songs - the bark on our tree.

Winds from Gaddafi's fighter jets move our branches, but we remain resolute in this free Libyan soil. We desire Spring for our children, warm democratic rays.

Mercenaries see us as kindling, the West eye our sap, neighbors pray this regional storm won't make their forests dance. But the seasons are changing. It is our time.

Photo: Dogwood or Cherry tree taken w/ iPhone 3GS, Hipstamatic app (Chunky, Blanko Noir)

Social networks, social revolution