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almost home
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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Today's Document

blake kathryn
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if i look back, i am lost
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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@raulismyhusband
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“We want the museum to understand that the moai are our family, not just rocks. For us [the statue] is a brother; but for them it is a souvenir or an attraction,” said Anakena Manutomatoma, who serves on the island’s development commission. “Once eyes are added to the statues, an energy is breathed into the moai and they become the living embodiment of ancestors whose role is to protect us.”
isnt the point of a museum to preserve history though? id prefer something be in a controlled environment than outside in the elements.
The moai have been standing JUST fine in the open in the island for literal centuries. Believe it or not, the Rapa Nui are NOT stupid; they know their island, how to live in it, and what materials and treatment to those materials do or do not last in the island they’ve called their home for ages. The moai are MADE to be “outside in the elements”.
And preserved for whom? I’m sure my ancestors wouldn’t feel it’s preservation to have a LIVING piece of their culture stolen by colonizers and kept away from them all this fucking long when I assure you, no one asked for their permission to take it in the first place.
That’s not fucking “preserving”, that’s just fucking stealing, and a loss of culture for the Rapa Nui.
Well then my God, every museum in the world should give all their artifacts back to the entitled people who want them.
Damn right they should give back all their STOLEN artifacts. How the fuck are you this fucking stupid that you’d call the people who MADE and are the rightful owners of those artifacts “entitled” WHEN THE ARTIFACTS BELONG TO THEM AND MUSEUMS
S
T
O
L
E
THEM.
Imagine this. Your grandmother has a ring she made. There’s a very particular way of making the ring that she employed, one that’s been handed down through your family line for centuries. It’s a beautiful ring. One day, when she’s not home, someone comes into your house, steals the ring, and puts it in a museum. When you ask for it back, they go “but it’s beautiful! And the technique is one we’ve never seen! Surely it belongs somewhere everyone can see it!” And yeah, the ring is beautiful, but it’s important to you because she used to play with it when she would tell you stories. Maybe, if the museum had asked for the ring, allowed you to write the description so it honored your grandmother, given you a choice in the matter, you might have considered donating it. Hell, if they had commissioned a piece from you using the same technique you probably would have been ecstatic to show your family’s art to the world. But they didn’t. They stole it. And to add insult to injury, they won’t even admit that they did so. This is what has happened with the Easter Island heads. And this is why they should give them back.
We shouldn’t need a fucking analogy to explain why you don’t steal shit from people, but this is a pretty good one.
Don’t forget the part where you demand they return the ring that was stolen from your house and they call you ‘entitled’ for trying to exercise your rightful claim to your culture and property.
Johnny Cash
Cash during the taping of the Johnny Cash show in 1969.
“July 11, 2003
noon
I love June Carter I do. Yes I do I love June Carter I do. And she loves me. But now she’s an angel and I’m not. Now she’s an angel and I’m not.”
- A note written by Johnny Cash two months after his wife died.
Happiness Will Come To You.
when tho
When You Least Expect It. Probably Late March
reblog for happiness to come for you in late march!
I reblogged this last year and I hung out with blink-182 backstage on March 30. Reblogging again because it worked the first time.
honestly, last year one of the best days of my life happened in late March
Wouldn’t mind some happiness in late March.
They are like 5 dollars sis
SOME OF US DON’T HAVE $5
A genuine question - how can you wake up and think to yourself “I’m hella proud to be American”?
Most Boring Super Bowl Of All Time! Even the half-time show sucked. No one won that game. We all lost!
I can remember the exact moment that I realized I fell out of love with being alive. When I met you I can't recall realizing I was starting to love it again I just remember being able to breathe a little bit easier. But the thing that brought my love back, you, also took it away. Every breath is painful. Every thought dangerous. I miss you. Not this you, but the other you. The one who's eyes made me feel like living was the right thing, like I was meant to be here. Now I see your texts and don't know why I'm still alive. I miss myself. The me who could go through each day with ease. The me who didn't need you just to be able to breathe.
This year I've wanted to die more than ever but this past month I've really lived living but just a day before my birthday that awful feeling is back
i no longer write about you in my poems, darling. i write about you in the blank spaces and empty papers and in all of my unwritten words.
— fray narte