coldhearted&young.

YA, SAYA.

[ishhara]

A full year.  A full year away, and maybe the hope is that there was a lot of growth in the time away.  A full year away, and this space still feels like home. 

[brklynbreed]

Faces at Afro Punk, 2016, Brooklyn, New York

Photographer: @brklynbreedphoto

[nevver]

You shouldn’t

[skinnysticks]

[keywrites]

My body has never left me. But I cannot count all of the ways that I have left it, ashamed of skin and hair and bones that belonged to my mothers, and their mothers and their mothers and their mothers, I am an incarnation of grandmothers past, this body has never left me, even though I continuously choose to leave it.

Key Ballah, Thoughts in solitude #2 (via keywrites)

[cerceos-deactivated20160308]

Masashi Wakui

[jaxloves04]

“When Love Hurts (Real Love Remix)” by IAmJoJo

[outdoor-anarchy]

how far have you walked for men who’ve never held your feet in their laps? how often have you bartered with bone, only to sell yourself short? why do you find the unavailable so alluring? where did it begin? what went wrong? and who made you feel so worthless? if they wanted you, wouldn’t they have chosen you? all this time, you were begging for love silently, thinking they couldn’t hear you, but they smelt it on you, you must have known that they could taste the desperate on your skin? and what about the others that would do anything for you, why did you make them love you until you could not stand it? how are you both of these women, both flighty and needful? where did you learn this, to want what does not want you? where did you learn this, to leave those that want to stay?

Warsan Shire (via outdoor-anarchy)

[medz-and-fedz]

Stills from M.I.A.’s “Borders”

[kylebullock-blog]

[crossconnectmag]

Installation art by Cornelia Parker

Cornelia Parker born 1956, is an London-based sculptor and installation artist. She undertook her BFA at Wolverhampton Polytechnic and her MFA at Reading University. Parker’s work is regarded internationally for its complex, darkly humorous, ironic style. 

Her work is highly allusive and patterned with cultural references to cartoons, a style which she adapts to her need to capture things in the moment before they slip away and are lost beyond human perception. When examining her work holistically one can see the following themes driving her work forward consumerism, globalization, and the role of the mass media in contemporary life. 

Cornelia Parker was nominated for the Turner Prize in 1997 and featured in the 8th International Sharjah Biennial in Sharjah, United Arab Emirates in 2007. via

Connect to more passionate artwork on our Facebook page

posted by Margaret

[communitygifs]

[ishhara]

august.

you’re checking your phone again. the app is swiped, this should mean it’s closed. but, you’re checking your phone again. maybe it was an hour ago. you’re checking your phone again. you just need to remind yourself, it’s the time difference. so you check your phone again. maybe you need to re-open your app maybe it’s not working maybe you should head on over tap tap test test, you check your phone again. maybe sleep maybe eat maybe catching with family and friends telling them about the honey coated chicken that made its journey too many floors up thirty minutes later, after an endless ride with a curious driver whiffing the smell of fried skin, “no slight thought to break open the box and sneak one?” the both of you helplessly trying to ignore the slow rumble of hunger permeating the air in the car, “just one he won’t tell the difference”, except you would, so that makes all the difference in the world wouldn’t it?

you check your phone again. maybe he’s poring over scattered pieces scraps papers journals reports hunched back new spectacles framing his eyes the ones you helped pick out the ones you secretly wiped when he left the room so he would see clearer, see what exactly? see the world or just you?

you check your phone again. maybe he’s enjoying precious moments with the woman who birthed him the sister who shares the syllables of your name   but you check your phone again. maybe he’s telling them about all the newness reluctantly accepted the ones he didn’t pick for himself, fraudulent caffeine   with red velvet whipped cream, just best you check your phone again. maybe the question lingering in the air “who wrapped my gift” three toiletry bags waterproof embossed with triangular packets “here at home we pack them with rice and hot, sweet thick paste fried anchovies and peanuts”, much like how you probably packed yourself in it, maybe, you should check your phone again. you think of thick coated lashes, petite liquid holder carefully cased in a purple transparent moneybag caring just enough to say but not as much as you think, how much easier if we could all pack ourselves in clear bags, so we can choose and go, we do no harm to the ones we leave behind, you think of all of this to gain courage, but just in case, you check your phone again.

there is a bomb blast eleven minutes away from you where you will park yourself for the night where you will inevitably swipe in the blinding hope you won’t have to anymore so, you check your phone again. he knows this is where you’ll be heading doesn’t he? you question for answers you know you have no claim to how could you in all your delusions of grandeur compete with the vastness of the ocean with the cool breeze And the warm sand burying his feet how could you compete with a taste on his tongue you will have to take years to recognise, but, you check your phone again. the brightness blinks at you, and momentarily there is relief maybe your worlds can collide, relief, even when there is nothing to show any motion or thought of your presence, but your insides bounce helplessly anyway, you check your phone again but it doesn’t come no matter how long you wait. could have been the first “bomb blast, don’t go” and you would have listened, “i miss you” and you would exhaled in relief perhaps you’re not the only one drowning that he too feels the distance he too feels loneliness sneaking up on him anxious, with no other place to run he too would have said “hello.”

you check your phone again before reaching for your tissue box. until it’s time to lie to your baby sister to the waiter at the restaurant to anyone but yourself “it’s something sad, that’s all.”

the saddest story of all, checking your phone again and again and again and again and knowing silence is really his way of saying “no”.

[vicforprez]

[alehandramilk]

[bombshellssonly]

[pussyxpalmtreesss]

Palmtreesss

[killyohji-deactivated20151231]

“Let me talk like an old man. Young people, be careful. Beautiful things are disappearing every day. Be careful. You don’t need to be [shopping at fast-fashion stores], especially young people. They are beautiful naturally, because they are young. So they should even wear simple jeans and a T-shirt. It’s enough. Don’t be too much fashionable. The brand advertising is making you crazy. You don’t need to be too sexy. You are sexy enough.”