Today's Document
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Game of Thrones Daily
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Peter Solarz
Xuebing Du

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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
sheepfilms
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
taylor price

titsay

shark vs the universe
cherry valley forever
art blog(derogatory)
trying on a metaphor
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@easter-everywhere
if you would all like to cry a little more today, but also have a reminder that people have always been people, and we connect to those who came before us even if we did not know them
in glasgow necropolis, there is a gravestone. it is very small and unassuming. in fact, it's very easy to overlook because if you walked past it it would not even come up to your knees and it peeks out of the surrounding foliage
there is no date of birth, nor date of death.
it is the grave of a child. her name was "Wee Bessie" Wilson. she lived, and then died aged just 2 1/2, sometime in the victorian era (from the age of the stone, and the fact the necropolis is largely a victorian burial ground)
nobody knows who she was, anymore. but 150-200 years later people leave flowers, toys, brightly coloured pinwheels, teddy bears, or seashells on it as they pass
bessie is gone. everybody who knew bessie is gone. the people who knew the people who knew bessie are gone. but she was 2 1/2 years old and goddamnit she's going to have a brightly coloured pinwheel or a teddybear or a pretty seashell
It's important to me to point out that Wee Bessie didn't have "accomplishments". She didn't have a degree, or a particular job title, or a salary. She wasn't a homeowner or a parent. Her life was not impactful because it was goal-oriented, it was impactful because it happened. Her legacy is in her existence, not in a checklist, and your life is valuable regardless of what you achieve or what you leave behind.
from the size of the stone, her parents were not wealthy. but they loved her enough in her short life to give her what they could. to make sure she was remembered.
and after all this time, strangers still honour that by making sure a toddler has a toy.
between this and King Tut’s ducks I see we are having a Weep Over Children Day on tumblr
as the op of both posts i did that on purpose and i will not apologise
nor should you apologize; it’s good for us to recognize our humanity.
Things I was not expecting to be reminded of today, Wee Bessie. It’s nice to know people are still leaving things. I used to love going for walks through the Necropolis and seeing flowers on the old graves was always nice.
And now I'm sobbing into my 2 1/2 year old son's hair, hoping that if that was him, people would still leave him toys hundreds of years later.
i posted about wee bessie because i live maybe half a mile from the necropolis. i'll say hello to her for you
i have to go out to the supermarket soon for medication. the necropolis is not much further away than that.
would anybody like to say hello to bessie today?
I WILL LIKE TO SAY HELLO but I'm in California so it must be in spirit
just tell her Bo says hi
I will tell her you say hello
As promised, I went up to say hello to Wee Bessie today.
Because the universe has a sense of humour, the sky unleashed what can only be described as a biblical rainstorm as soon as I left the shop
I told her you said hello, @dykeopathic, all the way from California which is a place she never knew - may never have known - but is very far away
I told her thousands of people around the world say hello, and I told her about @thebibliosphere who used to stop by but moved far away and can't visit her anymore.
And I left her a little toy whale I crocheted some time ago, a seashell I collected the last time I went to Aberdeen beach with @blarghala, and a bouquet of baby's breath
Because the universe has a sense of humour, as soon as I turned to leave it stopped raining completely.
[ID: a small grave stone in the shape of a celtic cross, which flares out toward the bottom, atop a plinth. the stone is a dark greyish-brown and is weathered and stained with moss and water marks. behind the grave is a large bush, ivy, and ferns that now partially obscure it.
the inscription is worn, but still readable. on the cross itself is inscribed (double slashes denote line breaks) "IN // MEMORY OF // WEE BESSIE". at the flared base of the cross are the words "AGED // 2 1/2 YEARS" followed by a horizontal line and then "W. WILSON". to either side, at ground level, are bright pink flowers. the ones on the right are obscured by foliage. to the left, stuck into the bush, is a large pinwheel in bright colours. the pinwheel is almost as large as the circular part of the celtic cross. to the right, similarly placed, is a bouquet of white baby's breath flowers in a cellophane wrap.
atop the plinth there are several copper coins and a piece of white quartz. on the ground in front of the stone there is a small collection of items: a crocheted whale which is bright yellow on top and white underneath with black plastic eyes, a rock painted pale yellow with brightly coloured polka dots, and a white seashell. just behind them is a foam llama on a stick, stuck into the ground. the llama is white and has blue, pink, and yellow decorative elements that are now faded]
There's a grave of a 2 or 3 DAY old child in the very back of the Eureka Springs cemetery and it is covered with toys and decorations. Some are for a tiny baby, but others are for a toddler. Toys the baby would have to grow into, but never will...but it still isn't fair that they wouldn't get to have one even if they can't use it.
A few feet away facing it is the grave of a teenage boy, also laden with offerings, though to a lesser extent. There's a He-Man Battle Cat toy on his, and a Red Hot Chili Peppers tape. A pocket knife. Coins.
We wanted to see the cemetery on our first visit together because it's lovely, but we go back for Them.
We leave something on both graves whenever we do, because they were people and we are people.
Maybe...maybe it IS just their families and friends leaving these things after all this time. But WE are strangers, and we still ask "What do we bring the baby? What do we leave for the boy?"
We have a really cool knife for the teenager next time, and candy for the baby.
My paternal grandpa’s brother, my great uncle, is buried in a potter’s field at a cemetery where many other little ones forever rest.
As an adult, I finally went to visit him, my great uncle who no one would speak of. With map in hand, I found an estimate of where he may be buried, I fell to my knees, knowing I was surrounded by children who never had the chance to know life, and spoke softly to my great uncle while my tears fell where a headstone should have been placed. My great uncle’s grave is marked by my tears.
I have another story for you.
I grew up within walking distance of a cemetery where I spent countless hours over the course of about a decade to sit in the quiet, to write poetry, and to visit someone that I never met in life.
Charley B. Stevens was sixteen years old when he died in the late 1800s. He was the son of local preacher. I first found him when I was fourteen years old. I’d sit at his grave and talk to him or sit with him while I wrote my poetry, eventually considering him a friend. I would buy two hot chocolates, one for me and one as a libation for Charley.
Charley had a epitaph that my curiosity could not ignore. “One noble life sacrificed through the persecution of an ignorant community.” Library archives revealed that Charley was deathly sick, but the town was too afraid of getting sick to come near him to deliver the medicine that could save his life. And so this child died.
Whenever I’m in town I visit him. Sometimes it feels strange to be older than him, but that doesn’t stop me from visiting for sharing some hot chocolate with my childhood friend Charley.
Nuestra antigua alumna del Curso Profesional Ana Martínez y Mario Ville nos muestran en esta nueva editorial para NEO2 su personal y contemp
✨These are going to make some Hellenics mad but the visuals are stunning🤩
List from top to bottom:
- Zeus - Hera - Poseidon - Aphrodite - Apollo - Ares - Hefesto - Dionysus - Artemis - Hermes
Additions to the group (I assume from the image limit):
Athena
Demeter
Eris
Eros
Hades
Hestia
Nike
Pan
Persephone
Themis
These. Are. Stunning.
New goddess idea: She’s an earth goddess of the new age who’s domain is spinning and weaving, but specifically spinning and weaving gigantic structural steel cables for construction and other industrial purposes. Her skin is steel grey and hard to the touch and her hair is like long dredlocks of woven steel. She laughs at shitty architecture deigns that will fall apart if actually built and protects well-made bridges and buildings she likes. She might warn you of unforseen danger if you always wear your proper PPE.
Okay now what do I name her
O’sha.
Obviously
THAT’S PERFECT
I AM ALWAYS HERE FOR QUALITY WORKPLACE SAFETY REGULATION PUNS
That’s my goddess. 👍🏻
May O’sha bless you with earplugs that are comfortable and respirators that fit perfectly.
And good steel. Always good steel.
May your steel deliveries be always on time and your rebar strong
I’m just gonna…. put this here…..
hope you don’t mind
You know how you occassionally find a nugget of gold on this hellsite? Found one.
May the blessings of O'sha give you both strength and flexibility.
O’sha is a guardian goddess of the Have-Nots and a terrifying force against the Haves who abuse Her devotees. I think She may also help the Have-Nots with unwilling employers when we need worker’s compensation. I’m trying to brainstorm devotional activities and offerings for Her. The first that came to mind is, of course, wearing PPE.
Be gay, do crimes, worship Hermes
Dionysus, god of wine and patron of wine-making, with the young Kore (Persephone), holding a flower. Roman statue, after Greek original, 2nd century CE. Collection of the Hermitage State Museum, St. Petersburg, Russia. Photo by thisisbossi via Flickr 2008: https://www.flickr.com/photos/thisisbossi/3055479520. Image license: Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)
More about this sculpture at Hermitage State Museum website: https://www.hermitagemuseum.org/wps/portal/hermitage/digital-collection/!ut/p/z0/jc29DoIwFAXgV4GB1V6EVhxvqkCIEUNi1C6mGsTKr1DRx5fJQY1xOyc5-Q4RZEtEJXuVSa3qShZD3wm2jxGZ7XCIYk5ngHGyoglfBmC7JCLi92AQ1OV6FUjEsa50-tBkm8tSdfu0suBet3ln1CdDttoCYCOjO96KRt_a1ALb8xjz3i-8KZ0C8pDzcEGdwJ98vTinbam0zAbmFT8kimNAF-fumvpjcNn_UpOLAy36coOm-QTrZoCX/
I pray that Ares give strength to protesters fighting a war for their freedom, that Dike and Themis grant justice for those wronged by the United States and its racist vision, and that Nemesis exact the vengeance of all that is righteous against the police and the white supremacist state.
Catch me being Bitter about the whole tired meme of “Roman mythology is just Greek mythology with a new coat of paint” like the native people didn’t have their own religion just as old and interesting as the Greeks. Rome simply took syncretism to an extreme.
ένθεος (entheos) - full of the god, inspired, possessed
weird how lighting a candle can make u feel marginally better like ur still feeling the same but at least there’s a candle burning… nice
Congrats on the 700 followers! I love your free poetry days, can I get one for Artemis please?
The Lady of the Wilds runs fleet-footedas the hinds who draw her chariot,and her companions end up in the starsmore often than not.
Artemis Agrotera, I’d riskthat stellar dissolution, my lifegone into a night-sky pattern,for the chance to race across hillsand drink from icy mountain springswith you, goddess of the golden bow.
——
(requests are closed)
Athena Promachos
By Leonidas Drosis, 19th cent.
Goddess Athena on the column in front of The National Academy of Athens.