#barkan

[vintagepipemen]

New York City school board member Joe Barkan, 1969.

[quotes-for-reference]

Everyone can lie. He's not God. And even God can lie.

The Night Burns Bright, Ross Barkan

[semperannoying]

“French units, present in Timbuktu, establishing the FAMa in the Malian army through training and training sessions. These sessions continue and then proceed directly to joint field operations (patrols, zone control operations ...).”

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Name of Barkan attack victim cleared for publication

Type in Kim Yehezkel’s name into Google, and you will only get around 2 or 3 entries, all from Jewish/Israeli sources. 

It’s as though no one else cares. 

After other news outlets pick up the cowardly murder of this woman, leaving a husband bereft of his wife, and a baby son bereft of his mother, the killers will be turned into frustrated victims lashing out against the “occupation”, and the victims will be turned into aggressors. This was the same for the Fogel family, Hallel Ariel who was stabbed in her sleep, and the Salomon family. 

Don’t allow this kind of sick moral subversion to go unchallenged! Terrorism is never acceptable! 

[18958329193849-blog]

barkan

barkan is very cool .

or, “ coolsome” !!

[quotes-for-reference]

He remembered learning that water evaporated into the sky, only to return to the earth as cold rain. He always wondered why people couldn't evaporate as well, why flesh and blood weren't allowed the same privilege of rising into the sky to change form and cleanse the planet.

The Night Burns Bright, Ross Barkan

[fairies-anonymous-co]

Barkan could smell the honey in the air, the wind was blowing down from where the meedmaker lived. The sun was arising on yet another day of his life, one of countless more. He was sat in his front porch, bewondering the beautiful terrangian range, and the many foothills that his kind called home. His wife was singing a song to little Wiekan inside, who was having a difficult time with his own morning. Barkan could only agree with the sentiment. Here day was filling our charming dwarf with unease, the long chains of time would be crossing right through his life soon. Every chirp of a bird, and chatter of leaves echoed into the eons of his forefathers, illuminating an endless history. He knew their pain, he felt the thread of fate passing from them through him, and slowly beginning to poke at his son. The boys life would be precarious to say the least, and there was no machine he could construct, or gadget or gizmo he could invent that would change that. There was a powerlessness to his position, his life coming just before the absolution of the entire universe. He would not be able to aid his offspring through much of what was to come, but he was thankful for his connection backwards, to all that had come before. Somewhere distant there was a history of an entire world, written in his family's blood, and faintly he could feel his own eyes looking through the pages.