#dryspell

[anarchist-caravan]

Europe’s rivers run dry as scientists warn drought could be worst in 500 years

Crops, power plants, barge traffic, industry and fish populations devastated by parched waterways

[deutschtraining]

✏️ Aufgabe 548 (C1)⠀ Die C1-Prüfung zu bestehen ist nicht leicht, da haben Sie noch eine lange Durststrecke ____ ____.⠀ a) von sich⠀ b) vor sich⠀ c) für sich⠀

[autumnjen]

I made this file folder junk journal back in 2017?? I’m hoping it’ll help be thorough this dry phase. That didn’t go to well as you can see in the last pic is a spread I tried doing today. Wah! Maybe I need to make another #filefolderartjournal #dryspell #artjournal #artjournaling #journalmaking #junkjounal #ifitrainsanymoreimgoingtoloseit https://www.instagram.com/p/By80JAiATQJ/?igshid=2tsc6vxqvvy4

[autumnjen]

I made this file folder junk journal back in 2017?? I’m hoping it’ll help be thorough this dry phase. That didn’t go to well as you can see in the last pic is a spread I tried doing today. Wah! Maybe I need to make another #filefolderartjournal #dryspell #artjournal #artjournaling #journalmaking #junkjounal #ifitrainsanymoreimgoingtoloseit https://www.instagram.com/p/By8ziykA7q2/?igshid=ckru9qdr47h3

[autumnjen]

Just keep adding paint till you’re happy, or get bored. #dryspell #collage #artjournal #artjournaling #magazineclippings #foundimages #messyart #layers #paint #scribbles #createeveryday #createeverydayevenifitsucks #notsurewhatsgoingonwiththeblueblobinthecorner

[justaguy43sstuff]

I haven't had sex with my wife in like 8 months.. someone please help me.. I don't even need to fuck I just need reminding that fucking and intimacy is good

[inlivingwritenow]

loll love kacey

[mythoughtsintextsandimages]

The Last Drop League

There’s something quietly devastating about a child standing in a dry riverbed with a watering can.

The cracked earth stretches like a broken promise beneath him. His jersey — bright blue, optimistic, absurdly clean — looks like it belongs to a different world. One where grass still exists. One where games are played, not postponed indefinitely because the field turned to dust.

He’s not crying. He’s not even frowning. He’s just… standing. Like he’s waiting for someone to turn the water back on. Like he still believes the hose might work if he tries again.

There’s a kind of bravery in that.

Adults call it climate anxiety. He probably just calls it Tuesday.

I don’t know if this is a portrait of hope or resignation. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe it’s just a kid who wanted to grow sunflowers and got handed a bucket full of drought.

But here he is, jersey tucked, hose coiled like a sleeping serpent, a lone human figure in a concrete scar that once carried life.

We teach kids to clean up messes they didn’t make. Maybe one day they’ll forgive us for it.