cloud iridescence — caused as light diffracts through tiny ice crystals or water droplets of uniform size, usually in lenticular clouds — photographed by rolf kohl. (more cloud pics)
Leigh M. McCloskey | Summer Solstice vs Winter Solstice
Do not look for a sanctuary in anyone except your self.
When we are collecting books, we are collecting happiness.
i needed to punch my paranoia in the face and also practice drawing wolves so I took both of them out in one swing
”A product of U.S. Army-sanctioned mass slaughter of American bison in the 1800s, these bison skulls are waiting to be ground for fertilizer, most likely in the American midwest. The slaughter was so effective that the population of bison in the U.S. is estimated to have dropped from around 60 million in 1800 to as few as 750 in 1890.”
They were slaughtered as part of a U.S. Government Policy to rid the plains of the main food source of the tribes that lived there.
"…to rid the plains of the main food source of the tribes that lived there."
America has been stuck on genocide ever since white people landed here.
White folks ALWAYS tryna make something theirs.
I’m actually screaming??
"You are not excused, but you are dismissed."
I gotta say that more often.
What is seriously wrong with white people. WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE SO INHUMANE? Why don’t you have the ability to have empathy towards others? Why do you have the need to hurt others? WHAT THE FUCK.
You pale faced thin lipped demons.
Crying is okay here.
Hold your mountains close and
your valleys closer, they say.
You don’t know how lucky you are, they say.
But not knowing is okay here.
Waiting is okay here, even if
all the clocks have stopped their ticking
and the mountains are turning to silt
that spins in the sky above the villages
before it sinks to the ocean bed
where the monsters lurk.
Sometimes, the church pew will
turn its back to you.
It is not your fault. Inside your mouth
is all the spirit you will ever need.
Inside your knees is all the forward
you are still waiting for.
One day, you will be sitting behind a desk
that still doesn’t feel like yours.
One day, your bones will break and
you will not feel a thing and the tears won’t come.
So cry while you can. Into your pillow,
into the soil, into the crook of your elbow.
The walls may be closing in but they are not falling.
You are getting older and older but
you have never been younger than this.
You are getting weaker and weaker
but you have never been stronger than this.
Crying is okay here. Tripping is okay here.
You, with your smeared lips and hours to go
before morning and no where to turn to
but back again, you are okay here.
Even if you aren’t.