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Andulka

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ojovivo
dirt enthusiast

titsay
Today's Document
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i don't do bad sauce passes
YOU ARE THE REASON

if i look back, i am lost
RMH
KIROKAZE
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
cherry valley forever

JBB: An Artblog!

JVL
Cosmic Funnies
art blog(derogatory)
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blake kathryn
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@guulabii
hey
doing things at the right age is literally a made up concept. you can start/pursue anything at any age. btw.
remember remember
every reread kills me a little bit more
reread and enjoy <3
when fiona apple asked “how can i ask anyone to love me when all i do is beg to be left alone”. well i have not found an answer but if anyone else has lmk
Bessel van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score
It’s been awhile my friends.
A simple messy little piece of grief as time reminds me that as i have grown, so as my mother.
as time as passed, my mother has aged. and now, i am faced with the stark knowing that time is running - and she, further away from me.
i miss my ex bestfriend & everyone else that i have ever loved but don't want any of them back either
Cueva de las Manos, Argentina
this website lets you listen to the sounds of all different forests around the world
living single szn 1
when jasmin from on my block said, “and i want to be with somebody who wants to be with me at all times, not just when they’re feeling afraid. i’m a whole life’s love, boo, not just part of someone’s one-eighth life crisis.”
god said let’s make a girl who will be heart achingly lonely in her bones and always feel like a stranger in this world who doesn’t belong in any room she’s in and always has one foot out the door
A Place For Us by Fatima Farheen Mirza
modern family
I think love is forgiving. It extends into a forgiveness that lies beneath his tongue. And it becomes me, it lives under my breast where the skin is most tender; where god had once touched. With love, there is a forgiveness like no other. It is the forgiveness that I appear like this; a mess, a gore, a melting lament and your eyes will take me in, with a greeting that soothes the very bruises I wish to rot in. It is the forgiveness that there will be days you shall appear forlorn, tired; a silent lament and my chest will be there, with a greeting that may not understand but will not waver from the weight you share onto me. When we love with forgiveness, we have to learn to put ourselves at the centre of it. For who has been most cruel to the being in the mirror but the eyes staring right back? Forgiving yourself for the moments of doubt, of lingering in places you knew would hold daggers to your heart, for not knowing, whatever it is that feels like the burden of the world resides on your chest; forgive yourself. And give into the moment of love. Love is revolutionary when done right. It expands, it nourishes, it feeds and boils but it also forgives, it makes space for mistakes, for growth, for us to learn to love again, to take the brave risk of walking back into the unknown of being loved again. Loving, I have learnt from falling asleep on his chest on a warm wednesday afternoon; from smashing mirrors in rages to watching blood drag on the bathroom floor from my wrist, from standing at the edge of windows to standing in front of the ocean and feeling the world, from loving a man who wished me dead to being loved by eyes so godly and hands, so tender, from hating the way amma calls for me to accepting her loving is the only way she knows; is forgiveness, in ways that make us know love, a revolution.
i once read about how love is the art of making bread, it is renewed and retouched again, and again. it rises, it falls but it rises once again with the right heat, the right touches and nurturing. i love this idea, this concept. i have been thinking a lot about love, again. heartbreak tends to do that, doesn’t it? it forces you to look love in the eye and rebuild all you thought you know.
i think love is a lot like preparing a meal. intentional in the choices of ingredients, precise in the way we measure, boil, simmer and overturn what needs to be. gently and gracefully molded, mixed and merged together in a bowl or pot; a warm caress. it is the spices we choose; the way it melts into each other on a hot pan. it is the way we rinse the meat, the vegetables under cold running water, bringing our fingers to places to make this dish easy and safe for the other to chew, to swallow.
it is the way when someone we love is sad, is sick, is hurting, we turn to spending time in the kitchen, creating a dish we know would ease the pain, ease the hurt, the heaviness they feel, or hoping it would. it is a way to say, ‘here, here is a bowl of love, i hope it makes you feel less alone, i hope it makes you feel full, i hope it keeps you safe’. it is the way when we celebrate, we bring out the colours, the spice, the heat, the savoury and sweet to adorn the experience of being together. it is a way to say, ‘i am so happy to be here with you, in this moment, in this space, there is us, and there is love, and we shall share this moment with each bite.’
it is the way my fondest memories of feeling loved have been amma running around the garden to feed me fried rice with fried keropok. it is the way my gentlest memories of feeling belonged have been sneakily eating ice cream with muma at 11pm, under the covers, giggling away. it is the way my only sweet memories of appa have been him spending hours in the kitchen to cook us dinner after a long day. it is the way my sisters would wake up early at my request, at 8am, to make me rainbow pancakes after a long night. it is the way when i was a fussy little child, my aunt always remembered to cut off the crust of the bread and make nutella cat faces to make breakfast easier to swallow. it is the way my aunt spent the morning of my 25th birthday rushing around the kitchen to make me a breakfast i would love. it is the way my sister mentioned she wanted turkey bacon a few weeks ago and i bought it the other day because i remembered.
do you see it now? that when we love someone, we remember their taste, we put in the effort to create something that melts within them so they may feel full, we give to them a part of us that is riddled in sweat and hopes they’d like what we put on the table, we remember and we infuse what we know with the food we share, we make purposeful choices that lead them to love, into love.