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Palestinian activists get their message across on Londons iconic Tower Bridge landmark- one of the cities most historic buildings. We need a ceasefire now.

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I’m just so fucking pissed off man if they can surgically airstrike international volunteer food workers three consecutive times to ensure their operation is wiped out completely what the fuck is left for anyone to say

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half a year of unrelenting genocide in Gaza, please don’t stop caring. they are so tired, they cannot be the only ones participating in their own liberation. we have to keep caring

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Outdoors Breakfast   -   Elena Climent , 2022.

Mexican, b. 1955-

Oil on linen on bord, 17 3/4 x 11 in.

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x

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#trailcam

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she's in a better place now (her bedroom)

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reading old messages is really fucked up because you see things and you’re like i would not fucking say that

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okay so a ceasefire will happen soon, inshallah, but i just know the second it does, most of y'all will pack it up and go home. the world has proven time and time again that the second the violence "stops", then everyone forgets about us and then we just go back to suffering under the israeli occupation. you guys need to promise us, promise every single palestinian child in the world right now, that you will not stop fighting. that you will continue boycotting, you will continue protesting, you will continue disrupting the world until palestine is free. and then we'll do it again. and again and again and again and again. for sudan, for the congo, for everyone who is suffering right now.

you guys cant keep leaving us and forgetting about us once you've done "your part". it always happens, and we always go back to suffering. you need to stand with us until palestine is completely free. until we have our land back, until we can rebuild our homes, until we can drink clean water and breathe clean air, until our children grow up never having to face a horror like the nakba ever again. you need to stay fighting until we are all free forever.

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here’s some people holding European robins so you can pretend you’re holding one and feel happy

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lou reed of the velvet underground, 1974.

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getting older for me has just been realizing how important it is to check the weather forecast ever day

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Ode to the Unpaid Electricity Bill

To my lover’s selectively distant brain—how she lets only the federal letters sit abandoned in the mailbox but still checks it each day, hoping for something handwritten,

how she curates a care package for me and calls  the post office every day until it is delivered to my doorstep, how meticulous she is for love 

and reckless for everything that is not love, my lover, who, after the first night I slept in her bed, woke  to an unworthy light switch, a useless outlet,

and apologized profusely, swore it was not a matter of money, but rather of mind, promised it wasn’t  usually like this, This never happens,

the electricity company has a grudge against me,  and I sat in the dark, unfazed, white my phone battery dwindled, computer dimmed to dead,

until I left for work, not yet knowing that this,  this messy girl, would be my great love, but for now, dear reader, in this story

she is just a new, frantic girl, certain that her quiet  house is he deal breaker, that after work I won’t return, and will instead find a new lover 

who uses a credit card or autopay, and no matter how much I reassure her, I cannot explain that the smell of her scalp has enough electricity 

to power the village of myself, her voice a reading lamp, her stomach a power strip, each finger a thousand volts. My love, if I could tell you I would. 

Every day before this has been a day without electricity, a dark house, digging for my wallet and keys— Who needs light when I have you? 

What is light if not your constant hum? Who are they to tell me what light is, the men in their navy polos  and white trucks, who are they to name the power 

of this house? And so, instead of reassurance, I just  come back. And when I do, of course, my lover  is standing in the living room. There she is,

surrounded by forty candles, surrounded by light.  of course, my lover, there she is in the organic light, of course, my lover, there she is fumbling 

the flame, telling me she tried her best.

Olivia Gatwood, Life of the Party

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A group of curious preschoolers visits some beehives in Stockholm

Submit your cute pet here | Source: https://bit.ly/3qre7V4

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overslept

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#:')