The fact that artists spend years practicing to become good at what we are, yet society couldn't give less of a fuck. Do you realize how terrifying it is to love a dead end? Do you realize how terrifying it is for the only thing you're good at to be seen as stupid? Before AI, it was: "Art isn't a job." Art was just a 'silly hobby.' It was just a phase. It was in no way a serious passion.
And then AI came along. Now it's: "Ai makes art accessible" and "Not everyone is privileged enough to be talented" and "Artists are such privileged pricks." Now, we're 'talented' and 'privileged.' As if we just picked up a pencil and discovered that we could make art. As if we didn't go through countless crash-outs, art blocks, and months wondering if we should just quit. As if so many of us didn't have countless panic attacks about forgetting how to make art. Besides, what happened to art being silly? Why is it so important to steal our art if it's meaningless anyway?
Our art is a mosaic of our struggles. It is not painless, it is not easy, and it is in no way fast. It cannot be generated. There is human effort behind it. And if there isn't, then it isn't art. Art has always been accessible. It just needs to be practiced. It needs time to learn.
Art isn't the problem, humans are. But sure, let's go with "Art isn't accessible."
'The Metamorphosis' is such an easter egg in this show. I'm surprised no one has talked about it yet.
In the book, the main character: Gregor Samsa, wakes up as an insect. The society around him sees him as a vile creature, an outcast. They will not let him enter into their midst until and unless he becomes like them. Rotting garbage becomes his singular craving. Human food is no longer appetizing. His sister is the only person willing to take care of him in his insectile state, nourishing him with the food he actually needs.
In the show, the main character: Yoon Jongwoo, is a crime-fiction author living out his murderous fantasies via his characters. He is an insect, an outcast. His yearnings are inherently murderous. However, this is entirely unknown to him-or rather, he does not let this become known. He keeps up a facade, unbeknownst even to himself, to belong in normal society. Thus, he leaves the actual murders to his character. Moonjo is the only one who sees beyond the mask. He becomes the only person to take care of Jongwoo in his 'insectile state', nourishing him with the food he actually needs.
We’re a family trying to get through some really tough times. My parents are in their 50s, and I have four siblings. One of my siblings is married and has a one-and-a-half-year-old child.
Recently, our world was turned upside down when we lost my sister Duaa in the war. She left behind three young kids, ages 12, 9, and 3.5. We’ve stepped in to care for them now, but it’s been incredibly hard.
The other day, the youngest, Anisa, asked me, “Why didn’t Mama take me with her to heaven?”
It’s heartbreaking to hear that from such a young child.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read our story. Your support means everything to us. Whether you can donate or share our campaign, your kindness will help us build a safer, better future. Together, we can make it happen.
Hi, I’m Saleh Alda. I'm a doctor of sustainable development from Gaza. I now… Saleh Aldaghma needs your support for Help Dr. Waleed Fa
Vetted by association! They are a friend of @/nohagaza2 (Vetted by association through @/mahagaza5// @/mahagaza1 (#366 on @/gazavetters vetted list) Please see screenshot below for proof
Do you still think of our children — bleeding, terrified, broken — being slaughtered in Gaza by Israeli airstrikes?
JAST YES OR NO
YES
NO
Voting ended onMay 12, 2025
Say it out loud. Say it with a repost.
Because silence is complicity.
And our children are dying.
This isn’t just another post.
This is a mother’s cry. A desperate plea.
My own son was severely injured in one of the recent airstrikes.
His tiny body, broken and bleeding, now lies in a hospital that has no medicine, no electricity, no hope.
He needs urgent surgery that can only be done outside Gaza. Every minute that passes puts his life at greater risk.
I am begging you — from one human being to another — to please help me save my son’s life.
Your donation could be the reason he survives. The reason he gets another chance at life, at laughter, at childhood.
Please, don’t turn away.
Don’t scroll past.
Please Donate now:👇👇 👇
Dear friends,
My name is Ghazal Naseer, from pales… Ghazal Naseer needs your support for Join Us in Our Struggle: Save Our Famil
🙏 Donate, share, pray.
From the bottom of my heart — thank you
My family and I haven't been able to eat bread for three days!!! The war has intensified, the bombing has increased, and the blockade has tightened, with food shortages in Gaza increasing daily. The price of a 50kg bag of flour has reached 500 euros. This is unacceptable. Everything is getting more difficult, and the bombing doesn't stop. We need help!!!😭
please help me please 🙏🏼
Chatting with my cousins: A Glimpse of Hope! Hey there! We are Tareq and Kareem. We’re just kids, 10 and 9 years old, living in Gaza and we
Nour (@noor509) is raising funds so he can provide basic needs for his two children, one of whom was born in the middle of this genocidal war! Imagine trying to raise and feed a baby in a genocide, in the midst of constant bombings and with no aid being allowed in! Israel has killed at least 17,400 children during its war on Gaza! With Israel's constant attacks, survival is no easy feat, especially with a baby so young!
To make things worse, their Gofundme fundraiser was closed by GFM when the campaign organizer Andrea (@roadimusprime) switched how he transferred the money to Nour. They have created a PayPal link to collect funds, but donations to Nour have been suffering ever since! Please share and donate if you are able to! Every little bit helps!
Go to paypal.me/NoureddineAboalresh and type in the amount. Since it’s PayPal, it's easy and secure. Don’t have a PayPal account? No worries
Nour’s GFM was Shared by 90-ghost! The link doesn't work now because Tumblr took down Nour's old account, but see the reblog in the Wayback Machine link here, also see the screenshot of 90-ghost's reblog here and here.
In the heart of war-torn Gaza, lives Kamal, a 20-year-old young man with Down syndrome. Despite his condition and the endless conflict around him, Kamal has always faced life with a smilea quiet strength that shines even through rubble and ruin.
But today, Kamal is no longer able to endure alone😭💔.
He suffers from serious heart issues and depends on lifesaving medication every month, along with regular physical therapy sessions😭. Since the latest wave of destruction, his local clinic has been reduced to dust, and his medications have become either unavailable or unaffordable.
His mother, who lost everything but her son, says:
“People fear bombs, but my greatest fear is not being able to buy Kamal’s medicine💔😭”
I am Maha Ashour. I currently live in the completely destroyed city of Gaza, specifically in Rafah, and I… Maha Ashour needs your support fo
Do you still think of our children — bleeding, terrified, broken — being slaughtered in Gaza by Israeli airstrikes?
Just YES or NO
YES
NO
Voting ended onApr 22, 2025
Say it out loud. Say it with a repost.
Because silence is complicity.
And our children are dying.
This isn’t just another post.
This is a mother’s cry. A desperate plea.
My own son was severely injured in one of the recent airstrikes.
His tiny body, broken and bleeding, now lies in a hospital that has no medicine, no electricity, no hope.
He needs urgent surgery that can only be done outside Gaza. Every minute that passes puts his life at greater risk.
I am begging you — from one human being to another — to please help me save my son’s life.
Your donation could be the reason he survives. The reason he gets another chance at life, at laughter, at childhood.
Please, don’t turn away.
Don’t scroll past.
Please Donate now:👇👇 👇
Dear friends,
My name is Ghazal Naseer, from pales… Ghazal Naseer needs your support for Join Us in Our Struggle: Save Our Famil
🙏 Donate, share, pray.
From the bottom of my heart — thank you
🚨Take a moment to imagine your child or loved one. What would you do for them? How far would you go to protect them and shield them from pain, loss and despair🚨
I am Marwa, a mother of three girls, Belasan, Joan and Nada, ages 7 to 14. 🔊🔉🔈I will take a moment to share my story.📢📣
My children and I lived under bombardment and aggression. We had a safe home full of dreams and a bright future for my daughters.
But everything changed when the war on Gaza began. Our house, which we built with strength and effort before the war, was destroyed.
We lost our job, which was our only source of income. The journey of displacement and moving from one place to another began without the minimum necessities of life. We faced difficulties in providing healthy food and clean water. We lived in fear and terror. My daughters could no longer sleep from the intensity of fear.
My mother-in-law suffers from serious lung infections and chronic diseases, and we find it difficult to provide appropriate treatment for her, especially in the winter and the bitter cold. She is part of our family after losing her husband. We are now without shelter, moving from one place to another, and struggling to survive. Today we have no income, no life, and no work. We are determined to rebuild our dreams, secure our future, and rebuild our home. We cannot do this alone and we need your help in building our lives. Your support, no matter how small, can make a big difference. Thank you for helping us find hope on our journey.
Take a moment to imagine your child or loved one. What would you do for them? How far would you … marwa nasla needs your support for Help bu
"I am Wissam... The last time I hugged someone, it was a corpse." 😭💔
The night was very long that day. I was counting the days until I would give birth to my twins. I brought them names, and planned to wrap my body around them when the tents grew cold. But death was faster. 😭
We fled our home under shelling, and my father was in the hospital, unable to stand. I told them, "My father can't move." The soldier said, "It doesn't matter, leave." So we left... and my father was left alone, until his heart closed forever. 😔💔
On the way south, I walked for hours carrying two children in my belly, a bag in my hand, and the rest of my memories on my back.
I bled on the way.
I lost my twins there, on the asphalt, in front of my other children who couldn't even cry. 😭😭
The next day, I woke up and found them buried under the sand. No grave, no names.
Now, I'm seven months pregnant with my third child.
But anemia is tearing me apart, stress is breaking my head, and hunger is eating away at what's left of me.
I feel my baby pleading with me from within: "Mother, don't die."
And I apologize to him every day... because I can't promise him life.
“I am Wissam… I lost my father, my children, my home, and even my voice.
I don’t want to lose this child too.
Help me before I become another memory in this broken land.
My name is Casimir, and I am organizing this fundraiser on behalf of Wissa… Casimir Reynolds needs your support for Help Wissam's Family Esc
My father was the only one I could place all my hopes and dreams on. He was the one who lifted me up whenever I fell, and held my hand when my steps faltered. In those dark days of war, I saw him strong in front of me. Even in moments of silence, his presence was enough to make me feel safe. He wasn't just the father I loved, he was my refuge, the hope I lived by. 😭💔
But one day, suddenly, that hope disappeared.
The sky was covered with heavy clouds, as if it knew what was going to happen. That day, I was at home, climbing on my tiptoes, holding on to any glimmer of hope, but when I entered our small room, I found my mother in the corner of the room crying, her face pale, her eyes filled with tears, and her mouth almost unable to speak. 💔😭
I couldn't believe what she was saying. My father, who had always been the strength in my life, was gone. In an instant, everything disappeared, and the words kept repeating in my head without me being able to understand them. "He's not coming back." Those words were harder than any blow I had ever received in my life. 😭😭
I felt like I was in a dark dream. How could my father disappear like that? How could time go on without his voice, without me seeing his face again? How much I needed him in those moments, how much I needed to hear his words of reassurance. But it was all over, and all that remained was the silence filling the emptiness around me. 💔
Every corner of the house became a tragedy. Everything reminded me of him, every corner, every smell, everything. I thought I would lose my ability to breathe. His absence was heavier than anything else. I cannot imagine a world without him, and I cannot see a future without his advice, without a hand to lift me up whenever I feel like I am drowning.
As I sit here, in that dark room, I remember everything about my father. How he used to laugh when I made small mistakes, how he used to hug me when the world was dark, and how his words filled my life with meaning. But now he's not here, and the emptiness in my heart can't be filled with anything else. Every time I close my eyes, I see him in every corner. I feel him, but I can't touch him. And despite all the pain, despite all the sadness, I know he's not coming back, that he's left me in this world, to face it alone.
He's gone, but a part of him, a part of his soul, will remain in my heart forever. Even though I can't hear his voice or see him, I carry his memories with me every step of the way, every moment. I've lost him, but I can never forget him.😭😔
This is my home Which was destroyed by the accursed occupation yesterday I'm not sad about the stones I'm sad about the memories I hope this damned war ends 💔💔😔 🍉🇵🇸
Go to paypal.me/wafaaresh2 and type in the amount. Since it’s PayPal, it's easy and secure. Don’t have a PayPal account? No worries.
vetted by @90-ghost
Go to paypal.me/wafaaresh2 and type in the amount. Since it’s PayPal, it's easy and secure. Don’t have a PayPal account? No worries.
This is Amir. He’s 10 months old. He was born into war. Since the day he came into this world, we’ve been running—trying to keep him safe, moving from one place to another under fire.
I’m not asking for pity. I’m trying to survive. I’m trying to protect my children. I’m trying to hold on to what’s left of our lives.
We are being erased—every single day. Children like Amir are being killed—every single day.
And I fear that one day, we might not make it. That we’ll become just another headline, another statistic, another number.
Help us. With your voice. With your share. With your stand.
Before our names are forgotten, and all that’s left of Amir… is a number.
"They’re not collateral damage — they are being targeted."
The image you see is not from a war movie. It's a real X-ray of a Palestinian child. A sniper's bullet pierced her skull. This was not an accident. It was a calculated shot — to the head. How many children must bleed before the world opens its eyes?
I see this, and I tremble. Because I, too, am a mother. My own child is injured. He cries every night from pain. He needs urgent medical care — but we are trapped under siege, under fear, under silence.
How long before my son becomes another X-ray?
Another hashtag?
Another number?
If you're reading this, you have power — power to share, power to donate, power to care.
Help me get my son out. Help save him before it’s too late.
Gaza’s children are not targets. They are lives. They are futures.
Please don’t look away
Please Donate now:👇👇 👇
Dear friends,
My name is Ghazal Naseer, from pales… Ghazal Naseer needs your support for Join Us in Our Struggle: Save Our Famil
Please
Yes, I will donate 😭💔
Yes, I will Reblog 😭💔
Voting ended onApr 14, 2025
✅️My campaign is vetted by el-shab-hussein& Nabulsi's, my number verified on the list is ( #355)✅️ 👇
I never thought I would be writing this. I never thought I would be begging for help just to keep my children warm, just to feed them one more meal. But here I am, reaching out to you, because I have no other choice.
My name is Rola. I am a mother of two beautiful children, and before October 7th, we had a life filled with love and laughter. We had a home. My children had their own room, filled with their toys and drawings. We would sit together on our balcony, drinking coffee in the early morning light. We had dreams, just like any other family.
But in an instant, it was all gone.
A missile struck. The earth shook beneath us. The air filled with dust and fire. My husband and son ran, stumbling over each other in terror. I stood frozen, the ringing in my ears drowning out my own screams. Our home was shattered—windows blown out, doors ripped from their hinges. And when I looked outside, our neighbor’s house, a place that once echoed with children's laughter, was nothing but rubble and ash.
That was just the beginning.
The bombs never stopped. Every night, I held my children close as the sky rained fire. The sound of explosions mixed with the cries of mothers searching for their babies in the darkness. I covered my children, whispering words of comfort, but how do you comfort a child who is terrified of dying in their sleep?
We had to leave. We walked away from everything—our home, our memories, the warmth of our life before. My children left behind their favorite toys, their books, their safe space. Now, we have nothing.
No home.
No food.
No clean water.
No way out.
I went to buy sugar the other day. It cost $20 for just a kilo. Food is disappearing, and the little that remains is impossible to afford. Every day, I fight to find just enough to keep my children alive.
I am exhausted. I am scared. I need your help.
I never imagined I would have to beg for my family’s survival. But today, I am.
Please, if you are reading this, help us. Help me save my children. Help us find shelter, food, a way to rebuild even a small piece of the life we lost. If we ever have the chance to leave, we need support. If we are forced to stay, we need a home again.
Every donation matters. Every share helps. Every voice that speaks for us keeps hope alive.
💚 Please donate if you can. Share our story. Help us survive. 💚
Hi I am Fatima and live in London UK. I have known Rola now for appr… Fatima Rajwani needs your support for From Despair to Hope: Help us to
I am Kholoud Al-Hanawi From Gaza 🇵🇸, the wife of Dr. Ahmad, a surgeon who risked his life in the war to save others. But today, he stands helpless—unable to save his own children. Our home is gone, reduced to rubble, and now we live in a tattered tent, barely shielding us from the burning sun and freezing nights. We have lost everything… but the worst pain is watching our children suffer.
Our precious babies, Yazan (9 years old) and Zeina (2 years old), are battling a cruel disease—Plaque Ichthyosis Psoriasis 🩸. Their delicate skin cracks, bleeds, and burns every single day. Every movement is agony. Every night is filled with their cries of pain. No child should suffer like this.
Tonight, Yazan looked at me with tear-filled eyes and whispered:
“Mama… will I be like this forever?” 😢
I swallowed my pain and forced a smile. How do I tell him that the medicine he desperately needs is beyond our reach? $500 every 3 days—that’s what it costs to ease their pain. But how can we afford it when we barely have food to survive?
Then came his next question… the one that shattered me completely:
“Mama… will I die if we don’t get the medicine?” 💔
No mother should ever have to hear these words from her child. No child should have to live in constant agony, wondering if they will survive. I am begging… if you hear me, if you feel our pain, please help us before it’s too late. 🙏💔
Your donation means life to us 🥹🙏
Donation Link
salam
It is with a heavy heart that I reach out to you to share with you the urgent plight of my child… Chadia Daoud needs your support fo
