Monica Denevan, Content in the Shallows, Burma, 2008
todays bird

shark vs the universe
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Show & Tell
Claire Keane

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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dirt enthusiast
sheepfilms
Misplaced Lens Cap
Today's Document
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

Origami Around

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AnasAbdin
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noise dept.
Mike Driver

Kaledo Art

Love Begins
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@sunflowerfro
Monica Denevan, Content in the Shallows, Burma, 2008
anyways remember when toni morrison said "sometimes you don't survive whole, you just survive in part. but the grandeur of life is that attempt. it's not about that solution. it is about being as fearless as one can, and behaving as beautifully as one can, under completely impossible circumstances."
everyone say thank you toni morrison
[“The focus is the mental and emotional state of the victim, not the boxes that a perpetrator needs to check in order to be let off the hook. Is the person who was hurt feeling better? Have they gotten what they need, emotionally, spiritually? If not, why not?
Perhaps it’s clear why amends happens first—what are you apologizing for, exactly, if the other person still hasn’t been cared for, attended to? Action first. Words later.
An apology, here, does not consist of the words “I’m sorry,” though that statement might be part of it. (It is certainly not “I’m sorry that you were hurt by this perfectly reasonable thing that I did.”) And, as with making amends, a real apology is not aimed at the person who has been hurt, but rather is given in relationship with them. It requires vulnerability and empathetic listening; it demands a sincere offering of regret and sorrow for one’s actions. It requires understanding when approaching a victim might harm them further and navigating that with sensitivity.
The goal is not to do more harm, but to do work that is healing, repairing. This means that the victim’s needs must be centered in the process, always. In subsequent chapters we’ll explore some of the more complex questions around apologies and forgiveness—what to do if approaching the victim may in fact inflict trauma, what it means if the victim is dead and cannot forgive, what it means for the penitent if the victim is not willing or able to be appeased, and the nature and limits of forgiveness.
It is important to note again that, here, repentance and forgiveness are not as tightly intertwined as they are considered to be in contemporary culture. That is to say, from a Maimonidean perspective, repentance is about righting as much of the harm as can be done, and this involves knowing what parts of the process are out of one’s hands.
The work of pacifying, appeasing, and begging forgiveness can feel fraught for some people. It may seem uncomfortable and scary, or embarrassing. It may feel guilt-inducing to own one’s mistakes, selfishness, lack of impulse control, or cluelessness. And yet, the penitent person has already been on a profound journey by the time they arrive at this point. They have had to understand the harm caused, to acknowledge and seek to be accountable for it, to begin working toward deep transformation related to the issue in question, and to invest concretely in reparations. In this way, approaching the victim to try to appease and soothe the wounds one has inflicted may be a natural, organic next step. It may feel like the next obvious thing left to do. By now, the perpetrator’s remorse might be so strong that the apology flows from an open heart seeking change. That is the hope.”]
rabbi danya ruttenberg, from on repentance and repair: making amends in an unapologetic world, 2022
Flo Milli for Paper Magazine
Lin Wenjie 林文捷 (China b. 1986) Cat under plant leaves acrylic on canvas
Ellen Bass and Laura Davis, The Courage to Heal, 1988
["If Not Sex, How About.... : Ellen's Story
When my lover began to say no to sex on a regular basis, I quickly realized that it wasn't okay with me for her to simply say no, turn over, and go to sleep. I wanted something, even if I couldn't have sex. And the closer to sex the better. If she couldn't do that, I wanted her to take a bath with me. If that was too threatening, maybe she could give me a massage. And if that was too much, then maybe we could go for a walk and hold hands. And so on.
Also I didn't want to have to ask for it. Asking and having her say no was difficult enough. I wanted the next move to be hers.
"I want you to offer me something," I told her, "anything you feel you can give. You can say, 'No, I don't want to make love but I'd like to kiss a little,' or 'No, but I love you very much,' or 'No, but I'll rub your back.'"
This was hard for her. When she said no she felt guilty. It was difficult to offer something else, and to her, the offerings felt pitifully small compared to actually having sex, which is what she knew I really wanted. Often when she said no, she was in her own turmoil— which was why she said no in the first place— and she resented having to deal with my feelings at all. Now I was asking her to give even when she didn't really want to, to stay aware that there were two of us in this relationship.
It didn't develop smoothly, but my lover gradually learned to offer something when she didn't want to make love. One morning after a particularly bad night she said, "Would you like me to make you breakfast?" I didn't really want her lousy breakfast. I wanted sex. But she had offered something as much as she was capable of giving at the time. I knew she was sincere. "Yes," I said. And we ate omelettes together while Tina Turner sang "Let's Stay Together" on the radio. We both cried. And I learned that there were ways to stay close, to feel nurtured and loved, that weren't sexual."]
新年明けましておめでとうございます。
本年もどうぞよろしくお願いいたします。
Me and my love 👩🏾❤️💋👩🏻
My groceries as soon as the sun comes out
mirror palais
ID: 4 photos of a Black model posing in a shiny ivory coloured silk bustier and matching silk skirt with a slit up one side. End of ID.
James Barnor.
https://www.nytimes.com/2026/05/31/world/americas/us-boat-strikes-colombia-ecuador.html
“The strikes reached their peak last December, with 14 that month. But the pace has recently begun increasing again, and the period between April 11 and May 8 saw a strike nearly every three days.
During that time period, the military increased the number of secret fixed-wing attack aircraft and armed MQ-9 Reaper drones operating from bases in El Salvador and Puerto Rico, allowing the military to accelerate the strikes.”
Fishing towns are being abandoned & strikes are forcing remaining residents to cut back on food for fear of getting hit.
Chaka Khan, 1975.
The spectacle of “A.I.” is only the latest delirium in the cycle of capital’s simulations. Investors, those high priests of credulity, once gorged themselves on crypto and NFTs, and now re-enact the same ritual sacrifice on a machine that promises neither apocalypse nor salvation, but only the indefinite postponement of truth. They already intuit the inevitability of collapse—the implosion that follows every inflation of signs—and so they prepare two alibis. One: to weave a myth of boundless productivity and technological destiny, a myth whose function is not to expand the economy but to camouflage its contraction. “A.I. took your job” is the perfect alibi—it lets the system devour its workers while pretending the fault lies in some autonomous, demiurgic force. Two: to supplicate before Trump, the sovereign clown, whose grotesque state spectacle guarantees contracts for every algorithmic chimera that can be mobilized in the hunt for migrants and enemies. In both cases, the machine is nothing but a screen on which the ruling order projects its panic.
But the illusion metastasizes further. “A.I.,” a prosthesis for cheating on homework and annihilating furry artists, is being instrumentalized as the very code of domination: surveillance, profiling, extermination. Its true debut was not in Silicon Valley but in Gaza, where the algorithm was initiated as a hallucinatory oracle, inventing targets when reality ran dry. Junk intel, yes, but the point was never accuracy. The point was to produce the sign of intel, a simulation of necessity, so that the massacre could appear as destiny rather than decision. This is the obscene truth: that A.I. exists not to calculate, but to provide the alibi of calculation, to wrap scorched earth in the aura of reason. The colonial frontier was the laboratory, the hyperreal testing ground, and now the formula is imported back into the metropolis. What we confront is not the rise of a technology but the metastasis of a script—racial profiling re-coded, extermination automated, capital’s terminal nerds scrambling for one last simulacral profit before the tribunal. They gamble on the fiction that fascism will pass and leave them untouched. But in the Real, every illusion eventually exacts its price.