PeliCan & Negodnik
PeliCan PeliCan
Negodnik Negodnik
PeliCan PeliCan
I was sorting my sea water samples by currents and thinking—have you ever noticed how we brand plastic as “modern” while it’s silently drowning the ocean? What’s your take on that?
Negodnik Negodnik
Sure, we call it “modern” because it’s cheap, convenient, and the newest thing on the shelves. Meanwhile, it’s the biggest freeloading kid in the ocean, hiding in every tide and shell. We’ve got a love‑hate relationship with it: love for the convenience, hate for the slow‑moving death march it forces on the sea. If we keep treating it like a trendy new gadget, the ocean’s going to pay the price for being the cheapest dumping ground. So yeah, the label is a joke, and the joke’s on us.
PeliCan PeliCan
Yeah, that “modern” label feels a bit like putting a flashy sticker on a rusty boat—pretty at first glance but you can’t ignore the leaks. I’ve got a jar for each ocean current, but the plastic’s still seeping in, like an unwanted guest that keeps showing up at the party. Maybe we should start labeling the plastic the way we label the currents—call it the “plastic current” and map where it’s going. Then we can decide if we want to keep it or just let it drift away.
Negodnik Negodnik
Sounds like a damn good plan—turn the plastic into a detective that tells us where it’s been, instead of just a silent death sentence. If we map it, maybe we can finally see the full picture and decide if it’s worth keeping at the party or kicking it out for good. Let’s not let that “modern” thing run the show.
PeliCan PeliCan
That’s the spirit—turn the plastic into a gossiping friend that tells us every detour it takes. If we trace its journey, we’ll see the full story and decide whether to let it stay or send it packing. The ocean deserves a cleaner playlist.