“Layer by layer, I removed all that I thought I was, all that I thought I had to be; and in that moment, I was left standing naked and vulnerable without identities or labels. I remembered, I am that I am.”—Lenita Vangellis (via stardust-seedling)
“you are covered by land, a lithosphere, a continent sprinkled with snow. i watch sky-water run off your surface, leak into cracks. i name your freckles after cities, your eyes after oceans. you are a world, my world.”—(via beryl-azure)
“You won’t allow me to go to school.
I won’t become a doctor.
One day you will be sick.”—
Poem written by an 11 year old Afghan girl
This poem was recorded in a NYT magazine article about female underground poetry groups in Afghanistan. An amazing article about the ways in which women are using a traditional two line poetry form to express their resistance to male oppression, their feelings about love (considered blasphemous).
Tell me again why I’m still here. The choice is simply evolution. Either way, my thin skin makes it a necessity to throw on three layers. In every way, I’m responding to this winter: I’m tensing on snowflakes, I’m stumbling over my history. I’ve never felt like this before. Never. I’m singing for the first time under just one patch of stars. Speaking honestly comes naturally after enough champagne.
i actually got to meet Mike Kinsella a few years ago, when he performed as part of my college’s indie concert series.
i got nervous and jittery and barely managed to squeak out that his music meant a lot to me, and that my favorite song of his was ”Champagne”, which he did as The One Up Downstairs. he just thanked me and chuckled, and said he actually couldn’t sing that one anymore, cause his voice just wouldn’t go that high anymore.