[decenteye]

An insane NYC sunset, captured in a single night on 8/11/15.

[theindivisual]

Who sees the human face correctly: the photographer, the mirror, or the painter?

Pablo Picasso (via bl-ossomed)

[sleepychubbybedtimebaby]

[badluckbadger]

The sound my stupid cat makes when I move him from his favourite spot (on top of my jackets)

[hhjjjjhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhksl]

what kind of camera are you using this is like movie quality god damn

[sugarpiss]

HE SOUNDS SO SAD PUT hIM BACK

[waluiqi]

[chocotaur-deactivated20211206]

Only a great photographer can conceal the dead body that would otherwise ruin the perfect shot

[thesouldrifter]

Interpretations are only for those who don’t understand; it is only the things we don’t understand that have any meaning. Man woke up in a world he did not understand, and that is why he tries to interpret it.

C.C. Jung, Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious. (via vulturehooligan)

[37q-archive]

i really wish i could put together statistics for the number of lives taken under capitalism in america but records arent kept for deaths due to institutional violence such as starvation or lack of healthcare coverage & health issues related to class-influenced geographical pollution and biological sabotage or police brutality , and we can never know whether or not the US was involved in political unrest around the world because the paper trails are always burned. funny how deaths under communist (lol) “regimes” such as the PRC or USSR are always considered inherently tied to the party but capitalist governance is never held responsible for deaths that are absolutely intentional and could absolutely be prevented.

[nevver]

Frédéric Forest

[public-rhetoric]

Linda Sarsour for #ReclaimMLK

[left-reminders]

[micdotcom]

On 60 Minutes this week, Cornel West gave a ringing endorsement of Black Lives Matter.  “I’m old-school, and I want the new school to know that some of us old folk love y'all to death.” His opinion is seemingly quite different from Al Sharpton’s.

[la-petite-feministe]

Black Lives Matter is held to such a ridiculously high standard. If anyone who is REMOTELY associated with BLM commits an act of violence, white people use it as an excuse to smear the name of the entire movement.

Cops can murder unarmed Black people and many white folks still jump to defend the police force.

This is racism. This is white supremacy culture.

[oliviacirce]

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, Please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she Did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, Sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used— She stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late, Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and Would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and Found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering Questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag— And was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers— Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands— Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped —has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.    (via jeremyclarksons)

[oregonharvest]

[kateohclock]

Ocean Beach, San Francisco.

[kateohclock]

I am thankful for sunsets this year. 

[mysimpsonsblogisgreaterthanyours]