bambi

abnormally large trees please lend me some of your centuries worth of wisdom

sorry boss can't come in today i was on my way to work and then a gentle spring breeze kissed my cheek and reminded me it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world

in the age of remote work we should all be visiting friends like they did in jane austen times. is it raining? stay overnight, you'll catch a chill. coming for a visit? why not stay for a couple months, until the roads...get better?

“source?” divine intuition, gut instinct, and cryptic symbolism from my dreams

the world keeps moving all around me. i go outside and watch people buy in abundance, complain about traffic. i watch influencers sell us their latest makeup product, hair product, selfie light, stanley cup, starbucks order. the construct of whiteness has created two worlds. one where bombs fall somewhere far away and people think the greatest inconvenience is a boycott. and another world where we stay up to memorize faces under rubble, hold on to lines of poetry during the 100th day of bombing, and wait wait wait for a different ending to a very old story. i want no part in their world of comforts, in their life of escapism. how can i escape the orphaned child,a US bomb falling on him, signed off by my million luxuries. how can i continue looking people in the eye.