nina the ghost

Follow me on IG nina.binah Berber tribe. Projector Aura. tattooed face. mama. Pot farmer. school bus. I am eternal. World Traveling. Ancient.

[humbledaccordion]

[sakurairie]

Me one day 🌻🌸🌾🌱🌿🌼💐🌺🌳🌷🍃🍂🌿🌹🌸

[humbledaccordion]

This is my mother

[humbledaccordion]

#ConsciousRising is a literacy project I started this year. I carry books to Jamaica and donate them to those who have limited access to resources in an effort to improve literacy and promote creative expression through writing reading music and movement. Since March I have collected more than 40 #books to donate to youth in Jamaica. Do you have to #donate ? Let me know! Our next chapter involves the self publication of Zines to distribute world wide! Do you have creative writing you would like to see published and carried overseas? Get at me!

[humbledaccordion]

That's a lot of CACAO beans #chocolate #thirdeye #sacredmedicine

[gold--bones-blog]

honey

a short film by madelyn gervais

[humbledaccordion]

Learning palmistry it’s 5am again Puppy guitar blaring in the distance I hum along in the darkness Wait for my usual sunrise To kiss me while I smoke my spirit And lie to myself about how Someday ill give them up About how there is still hope for us

[wordsnquotes]

“A thousand Dreams within me softly burn”

Arthur Rimbaud (via wordsnquotes)

[humbledaccordion]

Breastfed

[humbledaccordion]

humility

corey me and newborn asa in his leg casts january 2013

[humbledaccordion]

I can’t escape that truth

(via humbledaccordion)

[humbledaccordion]

Four of my favorite humans, so grateful , so lucky

[humbledaccordion]

summer 2013

[showstudio]

[humbledaccordion]

light

[humbledaccordion]

“Jonestown: Paradise Lost” on VHS

Your ghost is leaving gifts again. This time a documentary you so kindly taped for me back in 2005. It’s been sleeping inside an old backpack in my parents attic. Your hand writing, so distinct. I can almost see you biting your pen. I gasp the tape, whispering, “Julien…Julien” Your name has a familiar taste. Its been ten years. Your ghost remains. It slips love letters in the pockets of old sweaters I slip on to smoke in the cold. You are a winter, mourning. A sad story.

If I had a dollar for every love letter poem mix tape film or song you ever wrote for me I would have enough money to adorn myself in gold. But I would still be alone, with a thousand reminders of your passion. Remnants- Evidence that although you may deny it now, you did love me and for many years. In fact you were drowning in it. I keep a trunk of old letters- it is a graveyard where we slept, in love in pain broken content. Dealing with god and the devil, disappointing your grandfather, living in a motel room, an accordion, fighting over a bottle of pills, you punch me, a stolen cash register, astral projecting to visit you in jail- coast to coast moonlight lulled to sleep by art bell. Julien julien ill scream your name into the ether, I stand squinting into the slanting rain. I remember hitching to Seattle for you to tell me to not to stay. And if you gave me the choice to drink the kool aid or the choice to walk away I would still have my fill even drink the kill schwill so I wouldn’t have to feel this pain, again.

I put the tape in. I press play.

[thisbrowngirlsdiary]

[onlinecounsellingcollege]

Only those who care about you can hear you when you are quiet.

Unknown (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

[humbledaccordion]

Home is where you make it

[humbledaccordion]

this baby is leading a pretty interesting life aready

[humbledaccordion]

Jamaica Crust Tafari

[humbledaccordion]

Brim hole secret cave

[humbledaccordion]

Nina and her baby move to Jamaica