Did I weep? Yes: tears came out of my two visible eyes, my moist weeping human eyes. But I had a third eye, in the middle of my forehead. I could feel it: it was cold, like a stone. It did not weep: it saw. And behind it someone was thinking: I will get you back for this. I don‘t care how long it takes or how much shit I have to eat in the meantime, but I will do it.
Time, however, is different when you‘re shut up in the dark alone. It‘s longer.
*photo shown is the oubliette of Warwick Castle. An oubliette is the darkest place one can be.
The darkness that engulfs them is the darkness of deep, deep space. It is the darkness in the back of a child‘s closet in the dead of night. It is the darkness inside a coffin long after burial, after the mourners have departed, and the grass has grown over the site. It is absolute and void of matter. It is impossible and inevitable.
The sorrow breaks through suddenly and courses through Lilly. She lets the tears come, and she weeps into Tommy‘s shoulder. She sobs so hard her throat goes sore and hoarse. Her tears soak the boy‘s shirt. She lets the storm move through her.
Lily feels her spine tingling, the rage and sorrow a potent cocktail—
Me: quit making decent, innocent people die horrific, tragic deaths!
Author: No. Douchbags gotta survive first.
As of now, the Soviets are the Eastern front; England is the Western front. And the five of us left alive in this castle...are the Midnight Front.
Minutes melted into hours as Adair sat alone in the dark, enveloped in mourning. When at last he arrived on the far shore of his despair, he was left with a great emptiness, a hunger for meaning. His chest heaved with painful sobs for which he had no breath, so his body shook in near silence as he surrendered to his heartbreak.
“Fresh baguettes. Two sausages. And a wedge of triple-cream Brie.”
The spy‘s eyes widened as if he‘d been offered the fortune of Midas. “How? From where? All the food is rationed! The Germans haven‘t left us a bite in weeks!”
•In war time, food IS gold!
A finger of absinthe, then a drizzle of laudanum over a sugar cube. The cloudy mixture in the glass promised Cade black slumbers. In the space of two breaths, his coiled-spring mood unraveled, and he felt his mind sink into the drug‘s blissful fathoms. Demonic whispers followed him into the deep. You cannot escape us, threatened Azael.
Outside the frost covered windows of the Führer Bunker, all of which faced north into the Masurian woods, downy flakes took drunken paths to the snow-covered ground. The perimeter of a compound was ringed with land mines. Inside the camp, hundreds of soldiers stood guard day and night. It would be a winter paradise if not for the Nazis.
Making some Halloween/Samhain Pumpkin Spiced Oatmeal Soap.
The locomotive‘s breaks went quiet to a halt. Doors opened on several of the passenger cars. A few people disembarked. They all hunched their shoulders against the cold and moved with the haste of people seeking warmth on a night when gusts off the Seine were like knives that pierced even the thickest coats.
Banned Books Week! ‘A well-read woman is a dangerous creature‘. —Lisa Kleypas
Never underestimate the power of books.
Found at a local estate sale today. These old books smell soooooo good.
Arrived in the mail yesterday! I‘m sooo behind on my reading right now but I‘ll be diving into this soon.
We had so much fun at Charleston Pride this past weekend! 🌈🖤#equality
In Target today, I saw this book and I could only think of one thing: Pennywise. So I put the two together for a pic. I HAD to. 🎈
pickThis is an anthropological study of abortion in indigenous communities. The author is biased against this critical right of women. Hundreds of tribes are listed, some with rites and ceremonies, and different techniques are included as well. A fascinating study that proves once again: abortion is normal, women have always practiced it, & it is vital that there be SAFE ACCESS. #mindyourownuterus
There is something about what the Germans did that exercises a deadly fascination over us—something that opens the catacombs of the imagination. Maybe we know that under the right set of circumstances the things that live in the catacombs would be glad to crawl out. And what do you think they would look like? I think most of them would look like ordinary accountants.
pickWarning: this introduction by Dershowitz is BIASED! There are many redacted lines, but there is a lot of obvious guilt on every page. Every American should read this report. #dumptrump
I was dropping some paper in the recycling bin today and this book was in there!
One person‘s trash, is another person‘s treasure!
pickIf you think Williamson is a bit strange, that‘s okay. But she says a lot things that make sense. This book isn‘t religious, it‘s about getting back to where we should be, to helping each other, to realize our strength when we come together. Please read this book, look around, and ask where our country is going. #vote
Politics... when we get it right, it can be a beautiful thing, but when we get it wrong it can be a terrible thing. And we are all responsible for that. With every election, with every campaign, we are deciding something extremely important. We are deciding what is possibly the fate of millions, the fate of the earth, even perhaps the fate of humanity.
The whole idea of national boundaries is a man-made material category. National borders have a place in our material functioning. But they should be used to organize our societies, not to divide our hearts.
Demonizing others brings out the demons in those who demonize.
For every problem, whether personal or societal, the solution lies in the realization of our oneness and the expansion of our love.
Are you reading it???
Donald J(ackass) Trump needs to be thrown in the oubliette at Warwick Castle.
As with any other species, our opportunity for survival lies in the presence of an evolutionary alternative, or mutation. For the human species, that mutation is a mutation of consciousness.
A world in which we habitually and powerfully attack not only each other but even our own habitat, is a world the laws of evolution will not support.
History has shown us what fear can do, but it also has shown us what love can do.
Peaceful revolution is waged not with guns or bullets or violence, but with votes and consciousness and love.
A democratic revolution can‘t be fought once, as in 1776, and then simply considered handled. Democracy is never safe from those who find it inconvenient to their purposes. Every generation has to rise up in its own time, face the challenges of its own day, and continue the revolution in its own way.
Went to the library yesterday looking to check out Williamson‘s book—got it and bought these other three. I am really excited to read this in her perspective. Our nation is in a dark time and it is critical that we turn it around. #lovewins
It seems like I should have thought to myself, Wow, a cat is talking to me, and that is not something that usually happens at a highway rest stop. But all I remember thinking is how great it was to have a friend who liked purple jellybeans as much as I did.
She‘d created a personality inside which she could live as she might have stitched together a quilt of colorful mismatched cloth-squares, dazzling to the eye...she was somewhere inside, in hiding.
Neurons in his brain were extinguished like lights going out one by one—a string of Christmas tree lights.
Faith that is blind—-the strongest faith. 😔
Neighbor is lending me some of his Castaneda collection. #tbrtower
Litsy won‘t show the whole picture, and the way the name is spelled isn‘t the same, but see what I did there? I saw it in Goodwill and immediately thought: Anne of Cleves! #tudors
After a while there will be fewer tears. A kind of wet ash instead of tears...
How can it be, this woman is our mother – we do not want this distraught woman to be our mother. We do not want to be the children of such a mother, and we do not want to be the children of disaster.
I‘m a botanical nerd too, so I like doing little paintings of herbs with their Latin names. Elderberry is delicious and a powerful medicine!
We could walk into the ocean with our hands linked and know it was over, that it was finally over and would always be over.
Sometimes she was my enemy and sometimes she was just my mother, an enemy in a different way.
I pull up a net full of writhing silver fish and let them die in the bottom of the boat, watching them as their breathing grows more desperate. Eventually it stops. I know the feeling, I tell them.
The boy is crying again, his face alien and liquid, and the man mouths a word at me, which I realize is Please. I am not used to being offered this word. It is a spell, a weakness. I am moved; I let them in.
