Cuba is a beautiful country, inside and out

ellievsbear
almost home
Jules of Nature
dirt enthusiast
$LAYYYTER
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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Misplaced Lens Cap
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if i look back, i am lost

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@poeticpieceofgarbage
Cuba is a beautiful country, inside and out

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Everything Is Fine
Where can I find you?
You seem to be everywhere. In my dreams, in my thoughts, everywhere I go. Yet you are nowhere Completely disappeared, like a phantom.
Everywhere I turn you are both there and not. I see you in the corner of my eye, but when I move to see you, there’s nothing but emptiness
And when I finally find you again, it’s all the same. Just emptiness.

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“But then it passed, as all things do.”
— Khaled Hosseini, And the Mountains Echoed
Thrall, Natasha Trethewey
Always Dying Never Dead
What is death?
Tell me, what does it mean to die? to be dead?
At what point can I mourn?
For a lost love
For a dear friend
For all those people whose hearts have not stopped But who have, nonetheless, ceased to exist.
“She is dead to me” they say.
But there she sits
Her heart beating
Her lungs breathing
Her self, being
But it is not for her body that they grieve
It is for Her
The intangible and ephemeral self
Who is now alive only in the memories she created
For how long can a heartbeat be withheld For it to sufficiently be called a death? Must my heart stop at all?
Or can it simply beat anew?
The skin with which I touch and feel has all died and fallen
And then grown again and replaced itself
The thoughts with which I examine the world have all been forgotten
And then relearned once more.
I have died a thousand time
And have resurrected with each one
Leaving me to ask
What is death?
Does the child who once shared my name still exist?
Is she alive in me?
Through my name, my eyes, my smile.
Is she eternally preserved in her product?
Does the oak tree retain the acorn from which it sprouted? Or did she die that same night that I was born? Perhaps even long before then.
Did she cling to my existence as I slowly came to be
Fading away herself
But
fading into me?
Or she became nothing Nothing but a disillusioned memory
Of a girl who know pretends to exist
But only faintly
A stain on the pages of a story
The story of the abstracted “me”
I am haunted by a past that wasn’t mine
By the ghost of only a half-person
Who would never know their power
Her death is my life,
her demolition my foundation.
and when, finally, my heart beats its last beat, my absence shall make room for new life
When the ashes of man are left behind, we will call that our demise
But when, from those ashes, there blooms a strong oak tree
Nourished by our enriching decomposition
Can we call that death? Can we call that life?
Or really, is there any difference?
Fall Into Oblivion
Drag me down to the depths of despair and hold my head below the water. The closer I am to death, the closer I am to life
I feel the blood drip down my arms and bless the gods for the gift of feeling. Ruby red stains dripped across the floor. A disturbing exhibit of the proof of my existence. Licking my fingers to get a taste of the life which I crave to live
The chill of emptiness bites at my throat. Leaving my tongue stuck frozen to the inside of my cheek. No crying out for help. No way for me to speak.
The warmth of love burns my skin. Leaving a trail of scars across my body as it sizzles and pops. Two fronts colliding to create the perfect storm
Nothingness surrounds me, and numbness is all that I know. To rise from the ashes of my past like the majestic phoenix may put an end to this painful meaninglessness. But just the same effect can come from the great fall into oblivion, saving me from the excruciating search for a purpose that may never be revealed
When all the world has left me and all that I have built comes crumbling down around me, all that will be left in its wake is my ever-standing soul. Tired and begging to lie down, praying for a release from this tension of a non-existent existence, an unreal reality.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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"I was sent to this world for some past sin"
“The harassment and the measures against Cuba are inhuman and persistent
This has to stop.”
End the embargo.
“The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself.”
— Mark Twain
The way that Costa Rica takes care of their natural environment is truly inspiring.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Lay With Me
There is something so beautiful in these mundane, drab images. To me, it feels like gore. Complete and utter annihilation of the natural world. It’s horrifying, truly. And I think that’s what makes it so beautiful; it’s such a plain image, but embedded in it is a brutal history of destruction. Like a painting of a bloody battleground.