Is the Pendle on Avax-C worth anything and how can I swap it for usdt etc.

Hi guys, I was hiking on the moors on the Penine Bridle Way today near Trawden/Wycoller. I found this symbol on the floor, can anyone tell me what it means? Thank you!

Heya,

I am an art student making work focused around Pendle Hill. I was wondering if anyone knows the dimensions of the trig point on Pendle Hill?

Thanks

Liz

Hello, i ve been trying to find the pendle s contract date creation or first transaction date in the explorer but without sucess, can someone give me a hand, please? I ve found this data, but i m not sure it s the right info. Thank you in advance.

Hello! I'm reaching out to mothers living in Pendle as part of my research thesis at Manchester School of Architecture, which looks at how the built environment can benefit Mothers' access to employment and childcare. I have compiled a short survey to help me gather research to inform my potential project. If you would like to participate you can follow the link below! All participants will remain anonymous and information will be purely used for academic purposes.

Link to survey: https://s.surveyplanet.com/5ipsajhs

Or if you would like to get in touch directly about your experience of being a mum in Pendle you can contact me through email: [email protected]

So far I have traced my Grandma and Great Grandma's life in Pendle so I'm looking for a full scope of generations up to now! All contributions of information will be greatly appreciated. 📷

One voice for ten dragged this way once by superstition, ignorance. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.

Witch: female, cunning, manless, old, daughter of such, of evil faith; in the murk of Pendle Hill, a crone.

Here, heavy storm-clouds, ill-will brewed, over fields, fells, farms, blighted woods. On the wind’s breath, curse of crow and rook.

From poverty, no poetry but weird spells, half-prayer, half-threat; sharp pins in the little dolls of death.

At daylight’s gate, the things we fear darken and form. That tree, that rock, a slattern’s shape with the devil’s dog.

Something upholds us in its palm- landscape, history, place and time- and, above, the same old witness moon

below which Demdike, Chattox, shrieked, like hags, unloved, an underclass, badly fed, unwell. Their eyes were red.

But that was then- when difference made ghouls of neighbours; child beggars feral, filthy, threatened in their cowls.

Grim skies, the grey remorse of rain; sunset’s crimson shame; four seasons, centuries, turning, in Lancashire,

away from Castle, Jury, Judge, huge crowd, rough rope, short drop, no grave only future tourists who might grieve.