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Cleaning out my phone, and can't believe I never posted this.
The first time I watched Wolfwalkers, it was offered to rent cheap on valentine's day. I watched it once. I was fucking bawling. I went to the piano and recorded myself sobbing singing Irish lullabies from my childhood. I painted this. I took a photo of it. Then I watched the movie again.
My dad's dad's side, the Catholics, we've only traced back so far as leaving Munster and the isle of Man for Liverpool during the famine and getting stranded by poverty; the oldest thing on my grandmother's side is fleeing the 1650 siege of Kilkenny to refuge pretending to be protestants in Kerry. Others heard "to hell or Connaught" and chose Connaught. I have some ancestors made it to the Aran Islands, the least sexual place on earth.
Now I'm watching an alternate history movie where the guy who genocided my ancestors stayed in Ireland into the autumn and threatens them. If this is half of what my Indian friends feel watching westerns, it being twice as long ago, I owe them so much sympathy for the entire genre existing.
"Young Ned Of The Hill," before it was a Pogues song, was a folk song to the tune of Eamonn o Chnoic, but unlike the Irish lyrics (about him showing up bleeding at a doorstep pursued by the English), the English lyrics are a much more fairytaley picture of rescuing a maiden from her father's castle and eloping into the woods.
The parallels of the story of a young city woman leaving the walls and being rescued from the curse of perpetual humanity by finding a new family out in the woods are not lost on me.
Let me imagine the woods are still there.
I'm gonna cry again.
The first time I watched Wolfwalkers, it was offered to rent cheap on valentine's day. I watched it once. I was fucking bawling. I went to the piano and recorded myself sobbing singing Irish lullabies from my childhood. I painted this. I took a photo of it. Then I watched the movie again.
My dad's dad's side, the Catholics, we've only traced back so far as leaving Munster and the isle of Man for Liverpool during the famine and getting stranded by poverty; the oldest thing on my grandmother's side is fleeing the 1650 siege of Kilkenny to refuge pretending to be protestants in Kerry. Others heard "to hell or Connaught" and chose Connaught. I have some ancestors made it to the Aran Islands, the least sexual place on earth.
Now I'm watching an alternate history movie where the guy who genocided my ancestors stayed in Ireland into the autumn and threatens them. If this is half of what my Indian friends feel watching westerns, it being twice as long ago, I owe them so much sympathy for the entire genre existing.
"Young Ned Of The Hill," before it was a Pogues song, was a folk song to the tune of Eamonn o Chnoic, but unlike the Irish lyrics (about him showing up bleeding at a doorstep pursued by the English), the English lyrics are a much more fairytaley picture of rescuing a maiden from her father's castle and eloping into the woods.
The parallels of the story of a young city woman leaving the walls and being rescued from the curse of perpetual humanity by finding a new family out in the woods are not lost on me.
Let me imagine the woods are still there.
I'm gonna cry again.
Category Artwork (Traditional) / Fanart
Species Werewolf / Lycanthrope
Size 1695 x 2174px
File Size 1.14 MB
I was happy to pick up the whole blu-ray trilogy (Secret of Kells, Song of the Sea, and Wolfwalkers) on sale last year, Wolfwalkers being my favorite.
Our family roots trace back to Scotland. I'm given to understand that there's an ancestral castle somewhere (more likely the ruins of one). No cool shapeshifters I'm aware of, sadly.
Our family roots trace back to Scotland. I'm given to understand that there's an ancestral castle somewhere (more likely the ruins of one). No cool shapeshifters I'm aware of, sadly.
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