#just keep making

[home-grown-magic]

Y'all, y'all... I have been lied to. I thought socks would take me so long to finish, I'm 1 1/2 inch from the heel flap and it's been less than 24 hours since I started and I've had to sleep and eat and zone out on my phone in those hours. Like babes. It's like when they told me cables were hard. It's not. None of it is. Once you've got knitting basics like down, like "I don't have to look at my needles to knit" got it, everything is just stitch manipulation.

[xilb4real]

What Else Survives

What survives? What can survive?

Imagine, once everything sets, only you remain. 

Everyone is a husk of what they used to be.

Everything that once thrived, no longer breathes.

Everyone over each other. Everyone surviving.

But I can't blame them. You’re on this boat too.

So what survives?

Imagine, you survive but the rest fall.

You can’t pick them up.

They remain in the ground, lifeless.

You can only move forward.

So what survives?

Children are born, but barely understand.

They don’t understand the meaning of life.

How can they when they don’t know the words that exist.

Dictionaries only have words that they can barely use.

An encyclopedia, wasted and used as kindling.

So what survives?

Suddenly, there’s a box. 

They don’t understand it. But the people before do.

There’s a lot of them. Something called a CD.

The disk fits perfectly on the box. It spins.

They press it, and a loud noise occurs.

The children can’t process it, but somehow…there’s a feeling.

A strange feeling. One that they can barely describe.

The children start bobbing their heads.

The adults around them can’t believe it.

Somehow music survived. 

The children start exploring for more. 

And they’re rewarded. The children somehow have a reason to start moving.

The children live and thrive. And some can’t believe it.

Soon the adults join. And they’re rewarded.

The children and the adults listen intently years later.

The children are now adults, they know the words. They know what emotions are. They can resist. They can fight. The strength is undeniable. Their will now unshattered.

So what survives?

Our art. Our music. THAT survives.

And so I will fight to preserve our love. Our dignity. And our hope.

I will keep making for the children that may not understand.

My art will be the truest form of resistance. And to those I resist. You can go fuck yourselves.

[dreamaze]

working on new content like

[brit]

These are definitely words to live by.