Her?

it’s facial reconstructions of prehistoric humans!!

like, look at this part-homo sapiens, part-neandertal man from well over 30,000 years ago:

doesn’t he just look like a dude you’d wanna hang out with? like he probably washes dishes in the kitchen with you, and has excellent weed

what a charming fellow. what stories he probably has to tell. i’d definitely go shoot the shit with him on Contemplation Rock after i’d finished my day’s work carving a bone flute for the autumn hunting ceremony, or whatever

people have been people ever since people first became people, i tell you what

they all had lives and histories and families and friends and dumb gossip and games they played and total bullshit in which they believed wholeheartedly

they all argued about the nature of the world, and of themselves

they all sang songs

they all drew pictures

they all buried their dead in graves, and they buried their dead in graves well before they did a lot of that other stuff. they buried their dead with flowers, with panther claws, with the bones of animals they’d killed, with the bones of family members who had died at the same time or earlier. they buried their dead with their arms folded across their chests

they fell in love

they took care of their old and their sick and their disabled, even when it cost them

I love the kid in the last picture a lot- they look like a kid, just a little kid who’s done some mischief and is trying not to laugh about it.

I also adore their Lucy- they’ve struck a wonderful balance between the falling angel and the rising ape.

And their Turkana boy- there’s something precious and wistful in those eyes. 

But my favorite has got to be their reconstruction of H. floresiensis.

me, now:

me, holding up my cat: stinky

wife: no!! don’t be mean!!!

me, swaying him back and forth in the air: stinky bastard man

wife: No!!!!!!!!

my mother, not looking up from chopping veggies: naughty boy. brat cat

The mom:

Work Song by Hozier except it’s being sung by what sounds like a few fellow laborers a ways up the coal mine that you’re working in. It’s dark and cold and grueling work, but whoever the singer is, he has a sweet story and a sweeter voice, and morale seems to pick up with each beat. 

Me: