Mother watching her girls dancing in the rains, she sees herself, and she sees something that she loves.
Dhaka, Bangladesh
Photo: Istiak Karim
i made an alt where i ramble even more thank you very much
unfortunately, to my parents’ disapproval, the one thing i truly dream of is having a home. i know i am supposed to dream big and “shatter the glass ceiling," and i do, but really, this is as close to my heart. i don't imagine the number of rooms and how big or small the house is, but i do dream about the sunlight coming through the windows, the quiet summer afternoons in the courtyard, the plants and flowers that are to be grown, along with the groceries to be bought. i dream of a gentle life with my beloved, where there will be no slamming of doors and neither of us will go to sleep with quiet resentment in our hearts that grows every day. i'll be able to hear the laughter of the children playing down the street, reverberating off the walls, and tell them stories—from the undying devotion between two lovers to the ventures of the fellow knight—while drinking tea on which too much money was spent for sugar, which leaves ring marks on the kitchen table. i dream of the books that are to be read, which will adorn every shelf and corner, and the paintings that are to be hung.
My loved ones are always welcome, irrespective of whether they want company, help, or words of kindness during trying times. i dream of the mehfils that are to be held, the ghazals that will be sung, and the shayeris that are to be recited. there will be winter nights spent huddled around the fire with my friends, where the courtyard will witness us dreaming aloud and revisiting old jokes. there'll be new recipes i'll learn, cupcakes i will bake, a favorite song i'll hum, and movies i'll watch. after all, some dreams are not about leaving legacies or achieving success in boardrooms; they do not call for applause, shine under spotlights, or get remembered in the pages of history. some of mine are more fragile, steadier—ones that have the comfort of a voice that calls for dinner, the creak of familiar wooden floors, the smell of fresh bread and candles of jasmine, with the last note of the serenade lingering in the air.
“the arts and sciences are completely separate fields that should be pitted against each other” the overlap of the arts and sciences make up our entire perceivable reality they r fucking on the couch
We have been through many wars before, but this war was not like the ones before it. Our lives were turned upside down. We became displaced from one place to another. We are the Anas family, residents of northern Gaza, specifically in the Shujaiya area. In the first week of the war, we fled our home because everyone considered our home to be in a dangerous area. We moved to the Rimal area, specifically in the middle of Gaza. There, we received the news that our home, which contained all our beautiful memories, was bombed. Suddenly, it was gone!!! Just thinking that your home, which you worked hard on and built from scratch and took a lot of your life, was gone in less than a second ! After a while, we left the sands to the Al-Zawaida area because of the heavy shelling. We stayed there for about two weeks, and then the terrorist army asked us to go to Rafah. We actually fled for the fourth time to Rafah and stayed there for two months, some of the most difficult days of our lives, as there was no way or means to live a normal life. 😔😔 After that, because of the invasion of Rafah, we moved to Deir al-Balah. Now, we are in very difficult and oppressive circumstances.
“we don’t talk. i still dream about you.”
Radio Romance by Mashrou' Leila
Photo by George Semerdjian
on the inevitable and loving despite, despite // a revisitation of this
various wikipedia pages / carl sagan / why the sun chases the moon / war of the foxes - richard siken / drunk drivers, killer whales - car seat headrest / saturn - sleeping at last / pale blue dot, photo from voyager / lighthousekeeping - jeanette winterson / ann druyan / new york times / neil degrasse tyson / david jones
Okay here are some facts I think everyone needs to know about Modi's relationship with the occupation of Kashmir.
-In June/July of 2019, just a few months after Modi took office for his 2nd term he sent ~10,000 soldiers into Kashmir.
-Shirtly after he suspends telecoms/internet and implements a stringent curfew. He also begins arresting political leaders and HRAs. He begins jailing journalist in the dark (no internet made that easy)
-That August he revokes article 370 and 35a which removed Kashmir's special status (which basically means they took awa their statehood and nullified their constitution) and allowed non-Kashmiris to begin purchasing land in the region.
-Under Modi, Kashmir has become the most militarized zone in the world. Not being hyperbolic here. There are some areas of Kashmir where soldiers outnumber civilians.
Basically Modi has spent the last decade turning Kashmir into an open air prison while laying the groundwork for demographic change. Indian tourism in the area has been on a MASSIVE incline. That's why you're seeing messaging from India calling Kashmir "The Switzerland of India" and why tourists were attacked.
If this all sounds familiar that's because Modi is pulling from Netanyahu's playbook. Down to framing his colonization as a security issue. There's a reason he looks up to him.
Modi is a RSS Hindu nationalist that has been heavily inspired by European fascist movements.
You should know all of these facts as you navigate a lot of disinformation that's gonna come at you.
1 Fydoror Dostoevsky "the insulted and humiliated" // 2 Rainer Maria Rilke Rilke's book of hours:love poems to God // 3 Ethel Cain strangers // 4 Jihyun Yun some are always hungry // 5 icon for hire happy hurts // 6 Alice Notley from in the pine: poems; "in the pines" // 7 Edward Hopper interior, model reading (1925) // 8 Julien Baker Guthrie // 9 Clementine Von Radics dream girl "sweet the sound" // 10 Bao Phi Thousand star hotel "vocabulary" // 11 unknown // 12 Phoebe Bridgers funeral // 13 Yves Olade belovéd // 14 unknown // 15 Julien Baker everybody does // 16 Anne Sexton a self-portrait in letters // 17 pat the bunny I'm not a good person // 18 unknown // 19 Julien Baker sour breath
Watching the city burn to the ground we pass a cigarette back and forth smiles on both our faces We swore we were going to figure it out We promised would bring in Utopia
And the cops are overwhelmed by the mass of people fed up with the power trip We won't go quiet and we won't be peaceful Not when the war turns into something real
They may have some kind of self-elected power but we aren't bothered because we got the numbers Riot bullets and beanbags out to the stomach The first wave will always go down
Sacrifice is needed for a job well done
Both of us smell like gasoline and sulfur They used to swear the revolution would be televised But there's no cameras in the ever-engulfing flames And there's battles fought under every streetlamp The people rise when Utopia's just around the bend
Don't give up so soon, that's where our problem lies It's a gathering people that turns into brick throwing riots I've had my eyes on that fucking Starbucks for months Using spraypaint as a weapon, and bandannas as a gas mask like bandits in black with a black flag a red flag, what's always ended up as a white flag
You can't fight for justice if you refuse to fight And you can't fight for justice if you refuse to help it exist
she/her ▪︎ my mind; little organization
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