Visitors 101 Our most distant cousins have been visiting us for millennia. It is only in relatively recent history since the invention of the camera that their surprisingly friendly visitations have been documented on film. Previously humans relied on written accounts or artistic depictions, some of which we hope to show you should they be released to us soon. However this evidence, when it occasionally surfaces is quickly confiscated or ridiculed and labelled as a hoax, so amazingly these visits remain merely a myth until this day. In dusty boxes hidden in shady museums and secure facilities these pictures are mostly hidden away indefinitely until someone discovers them and is brave enough to leak them onto the internet and into public consciousness. Here is our first batch of pictorial documentation of these visitors throughout the ages. Visitor 043 - c2000s Mr Prawny In the peculiar village of Robin Hoods Bay, where the boundaries between the conceivable and the absurd wavered like heat mirages, there lived a small girl named Gulden. She was as ordinary as a summer's day, with hair the colour of freshly churned butter (recently cropped to remove nits), and eyes that twinkled with a mischief only childhood can muster. Yet, Gulden's life was far from ordinary, for her closest companion was a giant prawn from the outer reaches of space, a creature of such strange and Lynchian nature that even the most fantastical imaginings of the villagers could not encompass its true oddity. The prawn, whom Gulden affectionately called Mr Prawny, was an alien crustacean of considerable size and questionable motives. His carapace shimmered with iridescent hues that seemed to shift and dance under the sun, and his antennae twitched with sensitivity to the cosmic whispers that floated through the ether. Together, they would wander the fields and dales, Gulden with her small hand resting upon Mr Prawny’s shell, a scene so surreal that the cows would stop chewing and the birds would pause mid-song, as if reality itself was holding its breath. Their friendship was a curious thing, a blend of the mundane and the otherworldly. Gulden would babble about her day, the trivial triumphs and woes of a child’s existence, while Mr Prawny, in turn, would communicate in clicks and whirs that only Gulden could decipher, sharing tales of nebulae and stars long extinguished, of prawn societies with rules as labyrinthine as a bureaucrat’s daydream. The villagers, naturally, dismissed these interactions as the innocent fancies of a child, unaware that in Gulden's company, they stood on the precipice of the infinite. One could never be entirely sure whether Mr Prawny was a figment of Gulden's boundless imagination or a genuine emissary from the cosmos. The village philosopher, a man prone to pondering such improbabilities, once postulated that Mr Prawny might be an incarnation of the surreal, a walking, talking paradox that defied the laws of nature simply by existing. But in Robin Hoods Bay, where the unreal was just as plausible as the real, such distinctions mattered little. For in the end, what truly mattered was the strange and beautiful friendship between a small girl and her giant prawn from space.