h
YOU ARE THE REASON
No title available
$LAYYYTER
⁂
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Keni
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
blake kathryn
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
if i look back, i am lost
art blog(derogatory)
Misplaced Lens Cap
Origami Around
JBB: An Artblog!
No title available
Xuebing Du
Sade Olutola
Peter Solarz
seen from United States
seen from Serbia
seen from United States
seen from Vietnam
seen from Germany
seen from Singapore
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Argentina
seen from Belgium
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Romania
@va11halla
hello i havent been active on here in months bc i stopped hyperfixating on zls (but i still love them and they are my skrunklys forever) and also i have my own website where i post to instead go look at it if youre cool
hi im rocktype and this is my personal website
“is this real?” • coriolanus snow and lucy gray baird
When I was young, I never really understood my parents insistence to only use olive oil imported from Palestine. It took a long time and a great distance in a process that was neither cheap nor convenient. The oil came in old beat-up containers that did not look appealing to me at all. In my head, if they wanted to support distant family back home, they could just send them money and save us and them a big hassle. We could just use the nice looking olive oil containers from the nearby store. Yet, this was never an option in our household. The only olive oil we used at home was from Palestine.
As I grew up and started a student part-time job, I worked with olive oil a little. I knew all about olive oil imported from Spain, Italy, and other countries. I knew which ones were better and more expensive. I also learned to tell, based on the pungent taste, which ones were extra virgin. I was tempted to use my employee discount to bring home one of the fancy bottles and use at our kitchen. I could not get myself to do it, and I did not exactly know why. I felt like it would be disrespectful to my parents even if it didn’t make sense to me. It did not feel right. It was not an option.
After living in Palestine for a year during the olive picking season, something changed. The olive picking season in Palestine is holy.
Palestinians relate to the weather based on how it would benefit or harm the olives. There is well-known unspoken rule about treating olive trees with respect. There is a day off from work just to pick olives. On public transportation, it is not unusual to hear someone on the phone telling their friend to stop by for their share of this year’s olive oil stored in what used to be a Coca-Cola or a liquor bottle. A driver will stop in the middle of the way to give his brother- in- law a jar of olives that are so close to one another that they start to crush showing their insides.
In Nablus, the owner of the Nabulsi soap factory takes pride in how picky he is about getting his olive oil. He insists on filling a cup to let me smell how authentic it is and smirks as he sees my diasporic facial expressions transform in appreciation of its strong smell running through all of my brain cells.
I started noticing how olive oil is an essential part of so many dishes. “Palestinians drink more olive oil than water” I would jokingly say and they would laugh in agreement. Olive oil is truly an everyday ritual.
They fantasize about its color when it’s fresh and remind me that it starts to change as it reacts with oxygen over time. They dip their bread into olive oil, just like that and without any additions, and enjoy it more than the sweetest of all foods. I can guarantee that every lunch invitation (عزومة) I received during the olive-picking season was a chance for my hosts to share their olive oil using Msakhan (a traditional Palestinian dish).
I now have a deeper understanding of the psychology behind the burning of olive trees by Israeli soldiers and why farmers moan at the scene as if they lost a loved one.
Wherever you are, if it’s accessible to you, make sure your olive oil is Palestinian. Your ancestors would want that.
- Dima Seelawi
bigger text: dima seelawi
We offer an award-winning, first press, extra virgin olive oil that is aromatic and flavourful. The olive trees are rain-fed and handpicked
feel like y'all would like this article about how the devaluing of platonic relationships has a lot to do with Western culture:
In Ethiopia, physical closeness was a natural expression of friendship and love. When I came to California and put my arm around my sister i
teehee my commissions r open! trying to save up for a dog and my hours are always cut during january so anything is appreciated ^_^
tag or dont tag doesnt matter just reblog. venmo + google pay only!
idk its crazy to me that my old zls art still gets notes even tho that arts old asf… like i was still a traditional artist then and i draw super different now
another christmas gift but this ones a secret santa one in the seaglasslensmag discord for @lyitka !
christmas gift for a friend :] (queequeg from limbus company)
man i have not posted here in a year or two…idk if its worth posting art here again bc ive only rlly done oc stuff but i will try
feeling bored i’m gonna dox a fish
ok here goes
what the fub
impromptu transkovsky
mutuals can this be us? would you even care? human alt + reference below !
A few Report 2 gifs.
Plot revolving around a settlement quickly overtaken by a widespread, undesirable phenomenon in which the hero becomes trapped in and is forced to cure using their own devices
Map layout thematically constructed around the body of an animal
Player character blamed for crimes committed by a mysterious doppelgänger of theirs, who themselves directly contribute to the disaster at hand
Corrupt law enforcement willing to violate civilian rights whenever it suits them
Citizens deliberately withholding valuable resources that the hero needs to help save the settlement
The game deciding at certain points to test the player's resolve under the cruelest of circumstances
Water
Pathologic characters in the fear and hunger style!
ab ovo
On the edge of awareness, the town sleeps on – entwined with its river as dark as the deepest thickest vein.
- from my fic Fish Bones
