love micro mobility vehicles
hate whatever tf this bitchmobile is.
hello vonnie
Keni

ā

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Discoholic šŖ©

Janaina Medeiros

ā
Claire Keane
will byers stan first human second

if i look back, i am lost
we're not kids anymore.
ojovivo
sheepfilms
DEAR READER
Misplaced Lens Cap
i don't do bad sauce passes
styofa doing anything
Cosmic Funnies

Andulka

shark vs the universe
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@soufsidesiren
love micro mobility vehicles
hate whatever tf this bitchmobile is.
memorial day weekend
i donāt even know.
train art
views from my afternoon crash out
l i v i n
Too many evil male photographers, itās time to break niggas cameras
meals i made for motherās day
-sweet potato biscuits with blueberry basil syrup (unpictured sausage and spring veggie scramble)
-green goddess salad with pearl couscous, marinated chickpeas, pickled onions, and spring veg (all homemade bc duh)
-southern sweetness dry rub bbq wings
Grateful for the hands that continue to guide mine through the medicine of food.
gigiās hands guide my biscuits always
granmereās spirit leaps in rich salads
grandma and mommy live in the sweet specificity of a well down wing tip
i have learned love and care from what they have poured into me.
a note on biking in the rain
I woke up this morning to rain.
finally. the sky rumbled and cracked and the drops dripped from my the overflowing gutters outside my window. should have cleaned those out before the rain came. no, use thinking about it now. anyway, it was raining.
growing up I used to love playing in the rain when I knew someone would pick me up and take me somewhere warm and dry afterwards. now that job is in my hands. so I get wet less because I haven't been fully prepared.
[Im already tired of writing which is kind of disappointing. I've fallen out of practice. Lost steam. Down stream we go. ]
Back to the biking. All of this was fluff around my original thought. this morning I made the decision to bike through the rain. Last winter, I couldn't do it because I didn't have a rain jacket. Got one for Christmas but there hasn't been a day I've had to make the choice since then. It hasn't been raining. Me and the trees have been waiting patiently to be soaked and to spread some of the medicine around. I've been waiting to dance in the rain on my bike. Cars make it feel like getting wet is the worst thing that can happen. Keep the windows closed don't let it in.
I hate a/c especially in the car. There's all that good air on the other side of the window, but you rather have some chemically cooled bs blowing in your face. I can't take it. I don't like the way it feels on my skin. Recycled air. Detached from every other thing. Devoid of the sun. Or the honeysuckle. Or whatever that sweet, piny herbaceous scent is that soaks the air this time of year. I'll take the wind. I'll take the thickness of the air between the trees at 3pm. the way the temperatures dips round the gullies that remember holding water. the laughter from porches. the singing of birds. the clinking of tools under cars. and sirens. and motors with no mufflers. and bike wheels kicking up freshly fallen rain in the morning
haul from dinner at yes please
-gather by dr. ashante m. reese
-southern heirloom seeds
-fig leaves for fig leaf syrup
-night cap tea
-unpictured my plate of leftovers
no seam. whole cloth
found from pamās magic cauldron at yes please
missing two course from the night but what an honor to be truly fed.
i would have loved you if you asked me to
i would have lost myself in the storm of you
i could have tended to your wounds while leaving my own bleeding
i could have asked you to love me
but i didnāt
you didnāt
we didnāt
the wind blew. you went with it
carrying your clouds and your rain with you
now i sit in the warmth of my own sun
bitch you stressing
relax
āyou are wanted. you are safeā
-pink evening primrose
daisy fleabane
some type of bashful violet
spruce tips
southern dewberry
carolina allspice
cleaver
let that shit out. drain the stagnancy of your waters. release
high of 77
mrs. campbellās hibiscus
uncle juanieās mangoes
crown bay sea grape
the river tamarind that has moved into my grandmotherās yard to hold the land together
a foreign opportunist that i cannot fully fault
this is my story, this is my song
resting in eternal splendor
i now scrounge through your things
i find your whispers wrapped in envelopes
between pages of old albums
in curtains perfectly parted for tomorrows sunrise
i miss you more each day
i hold you close each night
you are home again
i will visit you often
brrrrrrrrr