
roma★
RMH

oozey mess

if i look back, i am lost
ojovivo
YOU ARE THE REASON
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$LAYYYTER
we're not kids anymore.

titsay
AnasAbdin
Misplaced Lens Cap
art blog(derogatory)
styofa doing anything
Claire Keane

JBB: An Artblog!
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

No title available
Sade Olutola
wallacepolsom

seen from Belgium

seen from Brazil
seen from Australia

seen from Singapore
seen from Argentina
seen from Paraguay
seen from South Korea
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Ecuador
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from United States
@thenorthpole
Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem
My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers of my palms tell me so. Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish at the same time. I think
praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think staying up and waiting for paintings to sigh is science. In another dimension this is exactly what’s happening,
it’s what they write grants about: the chromodynamics of mournful Whistlers, the audible sorrow and beta decay of Old Battersea Bridge. I like the idea of different
theres and elsewheres, an Idaho known for bluegrass, a Bronx where people talk like violets smell. Perhaps I am somewhere patient, somehow kind, perhaps in the nook
of a cousin universe I’ve never defiled or betrayed anyone. Here I have two hands and they are vanishing, the hollow of your back to rest my cheek against,
your voice and little else but my assiduous fear to cherish. My hands are webbed like the wind-torn work of a spider, like they squeezed something in the womb
but couldn’t hang on. One of those other worlds or a life I felt passing through mine, or the ocean inside my mother’s belly she had to scream out.
Here, when I say I never want to be without you, somewhere else I am saying I never want to be without you again. And when I touch you in each of the places we meet,
in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever. Bob Hicok
Elegy to the time it takes to realize the futility of elegies by Bob Hicok
Polish postcards illustrated by Z. Stryienska, 1930s.
adult grief by louise glück
I ALWAYS REMEMBER THE SUPPORT
Kimono series by Gloria Pizzilli
The little demons of grief came to live with me, in the space between the shadows and the floor.
I can't hear what they're telling me, even though I try.
Kakashi has been set free!
they listen and they DO judge💅🏻💚❤️
oh who would have known that naruto brainrot would hit twice as hard the second time, i thought the first time was bad T_T
t-shirts refs down here
So I just now learned about Stagecoach Mary and how have I never heard of this absolute LEGEND of a woman before
She was born a slave and freed when the Emancipation Proclamation was issued (she was about 30)
She was about six feet tall and 200 pounds and once she was free she decided she’d never take shit from anyone ever again
When one of her close friends, a nun by the name of Mother Amadeus, became ill with pneumonia at her convent in Montana, Mary headed alone into the frontier to nurse Mother Amadeus back to health
After Mother Amadeus recovered, she gave Mary a job as the foreman of the convent. She repaired buildings, took care of chickens, made the long and dangerous journeys into town for supplies, and did other odd jobs.
She could drink most men under the table, and one saloon offered five bucks and a free shot of whiskey to any man who could take a punch to the face from Mary and remain standing.
She was once said by a local paper to have broken more noses than anyone else in Montana
She was outspokenly Republican, which at this time was the liberal party in America, and would get into political debates with the more conservative townsfolk
One time a man insulted her outside the saloon so hit him in the face with a rock, and only stopped when other cowboys held her back.
On one supply run into town, her wagon overturned and the horses fled. Mary spent all night single-handedly fending off a pack of wolves with her guns before she righted the heavy wagon by herself and tracked down the spooked horses. The only thing lost in the accident was a jar of molasses.
She lost her job at the convent when she got into a gunfight with a male employee who did not want to take orders from a black woman. She reportedly shot him in the ass, which angered the local bishop.
After losing her convent job, Mary spent a brief time running a restaurant, where she welcomed and served all comers
When a job for a mail carrier opened at the local US Post Office, Mary got the job because she managed to hitch six horses to a wagon faster than any of the male candidates
She was sixty at the time
This made her the first black woman mail carrier, and the second woman mail carrier in US history
When the snows were too deep for the horses to manage the long and dangerous delivery routes, Mary would strap on snowshoes, put the bags of mail on her shoulders, and do it herself
At one point she apparently had a pet eagle????
She only retired from the mail route when she was about 70 years old, and instead made a quieter living by babysitting and running a laundry business in the town of Cascade
She was a huge baseball fan and often gave the local team a big bouquet of flowers from her garden
The people of Cascade loved Mary so much that they closed the schools annually on her birthday
When a law was passed in Montana that forbade women from drinking in saloons, the mayor of Cascade granted Mary an exemption.
When her house burned down, the whole town got together to help her build a new one
She continued drinking, fighting, and going to baseball games until she died of liver failure at 82 in 1914
Mary (far right) and the local baseball team
Anyway sorry for gushing I just now heard about her and I’m in love
I’ve heard of her, but godDAMN, if her story doesn’t bear repeating. ^w^
She has her own wikipedia page. Enjoy.
There are several documentaries about her, too. https://m.imdb.com/title/tt6004312/
This is American History. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. Be proud of heroes like this. Tell their stories.
graphic thingy I did back in May, had a lot of fun with it
Mood For The Day
Sakura's axe
art by Deontay Art (@.deontayart)
The Abyss
Inspo: AlexMustToDraw