Nestled on the rugged edges of northern Morocco, where the whispers of history blend with the azure embrace of the Mediterranean, stands a testament to time - an abandoned Spanish military castle. Its silent stones, caressed by the sea breeze, tell tales of bygone eras, of vigils held and battles fought. Above its weathered facade, a solitary prickly pear plant stands sentinel, a living relic of ancient times. This castle, a bridge between worlds, invites the soul to wander amidst the shadows of history, under the watchful gaze of nature. Join me on this journey through time, where every stone has a story, and the horizon stretches into eternity. 🏰🌊🌵
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day three: PROMPT ''Write about three things that you haven’t seen in your world for at least 1 year each. Prompt to appreciate the beauty of the recently forgotten."
the bumblebee has found its shadow
along the brightly sun-lit fence
looking for the golden juice of the new season
the birds find their loud singing voices
with exciting mating calls
a search for parts to make their new homes
the blooms open up once more
new colours
vibrancy
and soft hues drifting into sight
i appreciate this new cycle
i appreciate the beauty that is only in the beginnings.
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a small moment of kindness that touched me today. speaking about our struggles as grad students in class with classmates. our small group is all BIPOC; another latine and two arabs, one who is palestinian. we are speaking very honestly about our fears and frustrations. feeling useless. feeling scared. upset at the world and its horrors. angry at other peoples' silence. but at the same time so so full of joy and hope. i talked about being scared of being forgotten, and we continued on with our group task of creating a liberation health triangle.
professor transitioned us back to the full class and while our professor began speaking again, my Palestinian classmate--so beautiful and with the most wonderful curls--leaned close to me and whispered "I'll never forgot you." I almost didn't hear her so i whispered back, "what?", and as sweetly as the first time she said, "I'll never forget you. And I'll never forget what you said last semester. You were the first person in this entire program who spoke of your frustrations. I felt less alone."
the walk home from class was very cold, but i could not help but let myself repeat the moment in my head over and over again.
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Sharon Tate and Roman Polanski by David Bailey for Vogue, 1969.
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