Proving that I have little sense of shame, here’s a haiga that I persisted in making despite being stuck with a mediocre to bad photo. (It was even blurry, so I added a glow effect to make the blurriness look intentional, suggesting movement.) The haiku adapts a long-standing family joke about annual rock migrations in the late fall and early spring. (Mountain humor, you know?) I wish I’d saved some of the drafts but they were all in my head as I walked up the hollow yesterday. It wasn’t until I stepped through my front door that “sandstone” occurred to me as an improvement on just “rocks” and then the whole thing clicked into place, simultaneously gesturing toward Orientalist notions of the exotic, the human rights of economic migrants, and geological deep time.