
if i look back, i am lost
$LAYYYTER
Sweet Seals For You, Always
đȘŒ
No title available
One Nice Bug Per Day
YOU ARE THE REASON

ç„æ„ / Permanent Vacation

izzy's playlists!
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
todays bird
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
will byers stan first human second
d e v o n
noise dept.
Peter Solarz
Cosimo Galluzzi
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

tannertan36

No title available

seen from Brazil

seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from France
seen from Portugal

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Venezuela

seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from Switzerland
seen from Venezuela
seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
@thetomorrowseries
After a few minutes Homer came out of the darkness and reached for my hand. I gave him the wet cold heavy thing. It must have been like picking up a dead fish. âCome on, Ellie, old mate,â he said wearily. I let myself be led like a helpless child.
So I found myself telling my own stories. It was strange: as I did it I realised how much we get shaped by our stories. Itâs like the stories of our lives make us the people we are.
ships that i just think are neat â€Â ellie linton and homer yannos
I wanted to spend more time with this new Homer, this interesting and clever boy whom Iâd known but not known for so many years.
Eventually I was the one who got everyone moving again. It was because of those dumb comments about my being so strong â I wanted to live up to them now. Plus there was another reason. I never liked it when Homer took command too much or for too long. I always had to assert myself when that happened. Itâs always been that way, even when we were little kids.
Real life places that inspired John Marsden for The Tomorrow Series: Mt Howitt, Victoria
The views are fantastic. You can drive almost up on to it at one point, near Mt Martin, on an old logging track thatâs hard to find now, itâs so overgrown. Hell is whatâs on the other side of Tailorâs, a cauldron of boulders and trees and blackberries and feral dogs and wombats and undergrowth. Itâs a wild place, and I didnât know anyone whoâd been there, though Iâd stood on the edge and looked down at it quite often. For one thing I couldnât see how youâd get in there. The cliffs all around it are spectacular, hundreds of metres high in places. [...] It was about half past two when we got to the top. Fi had ridden the last couple of kâs, but we were all relieved to get out of the Landie and stretch our bones. We came out on the south side of a knoll near Mt Martin. That was the end of the vehicle track: from then on it was shanksâs pony. But for the time being we wandered around and admired the view. - Tomorrow, When The War Began | Chapter 1
But that night we did sit up late, and talk and talk. I think we were excited to be there, in that strange and beautiful place, where so few humans had ever been. There arenât many wild places left on Earth, yet weâd fluked it into the middle of this little wild kingdom. â Tomorrow, When The War Began
iâm on book four of the tomorrow series and they are all so far as brilliant as i remember them being when i read them between the ages of twelve to fifteen. itâs hard to recall any other books for teens i read at the time that were this gritty, honest and⊠feminist.
here we have a white, middle-aged, presumably straight australian man penning some serious observations about society. theyâre reflected in the main character, the narrator, Ellie who is brave and complicated. she couldnât be less of a two-dimensional character if you tried. male characters are shown being sexist and she calls them out of it. she talks about feminism straight up and she gives as good as she gets, refusing to back down to men who feel they should be leaders due to their penises.
and itâs not âalienatingâ. itâs not âfor girlsâ. these books are about war. the morality of war, the sacrifice of war. fighting and death, guerilla tactics and hiding, danger and boredom. itâs not a love story between a girl and a boy (heck, the relationships donât make it past the second book, which is probably the most realistic outcome and doesnât pander to the whimsical). if anything itâs a love story between Elllie and her home, her country and her relationship to it.
anyway, i wish i could force everyone i know to read these novels but itâs a bit of a gruelling task to say, âread these seven or eight books and get back to me!â. so iâm going to settle for sporadically writing out my thoughts here. my god i love these books!
purchase tomorrow when the war began for cheaps (and talk to me about it!)Â here
The Dead Of The Night
Itâs very dark tonight. Autumnâs creeping through the bush, dropping a few leaves here and there, colouring the blackberries, giving the breeze a sharp touch. Itâs cold, and Iâm finding it hard to write and keep warm at the same time. Iâm crouched inside my sleeping bag like a hunchback, trying to balance the torch, my pen, and the paper without exposing too much skin to the night air. âMy pen.â Funny, I wrote that without noticing. âThe torchâ, âthe paperâ, but âmy penâ. That shows what writing means to me, I guess. My pen is a pipe from my heart to the paper. Itâs about the most important thing I own.
Madeleine Madden + Andrew Creer in âTomorrow When the War Beganâ
Madeleine Madden + Andrew Creer in âTomorrow When the War Beganâ
While I Live - The Ellie Chronicles | Ellie and Fi watching Grease
The last night Fi and I watched a video. Not a rented one, just Grease that Iâd taped off TV ages ago. Fi sat on the floor. I was behind her, doing her hair, Gavin was sound asleep. Sandy, the Olivia Newton-John character in the movie, reminded me a bit of Fi. Iâd never have said that to her though. She hated people saying she was âsweetâ or âinnocentâ. But knowing she was leaving the next morning was getting to me. When Sandy sang âHopelessly Devoted to Youâ I was struggling not to cry. Not that I was hopelessly devoted to Fi, but I felt hopelessly shattered by all the stuff that had happened, and hopelessly lonely at the thought of her going back to the city. And then âLook at Me, Iâm Sandra Deeâ started and we were suddenly doing a dance number in front of the TV, and even though we hadnât done anything like that for more than a year we synchronised perfectly. We didnât need a choreographer. Our friendship was our choreographer.