we’re about to possibly witness a complete wipeout of every single palestinian present in Gaza and there’s no mode of communication available for them to broadcast it to the world. now, more than ever, awareness is vital
sharing spotify links on here can be something so personal (i make myself vulnerable to you and lay my lyrically encrypted train of thought naked for you to dissect)
when there's one too many different hobbies to pick up and an ocean of knowledge to dip your toes in and you're 35 different ambitions in a trench coat, bounded in place by a system that kills variety and you're only just 19
my phone's password is the distance from Lahore to this friend's city. I always think of only one person when I look at the moon. I crush garlic the way my best friend taught me 7 years ago. I wear jhumke because my school friend told me she loved them on me.
maybe love is saving your best friend's whatsapp profile picture of when they were 7 and their candids from when they're knee-deep in blissful oblivion to a decrepit corner of your gallery, a silhouette of them vulnerable to only you forever and ever
its like the year's passing me by as slowly as is humanly possible but is also flitting away at record speed, and i'm held taut, suspended in an intermediate depersonalized space simultaneously frozen in time yet weathering with the seasons anyway
there's so much music waiting to be discovered and so many books lying in wait to be picked up and so many languages left to be learnt and so many films that are unwatched and in search of a fresh pair of eyes and
it genuinely sickens me to my core that millions of people the world over will look at the children in these videos straight in the eye and claim it’s all palestinian propaganda. the footage, the photos of wreckage and mutilated bodies, the piles upon piles of rubble, all of it
never really got over Nuri Oh's final pieces for her graduate diploma that "explored the feeling of being treated like an object", directly translating this affection into garments in which the body is sculpted in an almost claustrophobically isolating way
being acquainted closely with writers these days is crazy because you could read the rawest, most touching piece of literature written (by them) and it'd turn out the muse for it was . vernon of kpop boy band Seventeen
been listening to a lot of mitski recently and i think one of the reasons i'm so pulled to most of her higher bpm discography is because of how she puts this eerily whimsical spin to the macabre, leading to a bizarre yet oh-so heart rendering final product
something about Makoto Maruyama's art is just so entrancing, the simplistic style and the way every seemingly random splotch of color somehow adds up to a vivid visual feast
i think everybody should watch Succession at least once in their lifetime, if only to poke fun at the (extremely well-represented) bourgeoisie, and to just genuinely have fun because i've yet to come across a more deeply unserious set of characters in any black comedy drama
i think i might've done this before but if you come across this tweet please drop some tracks in your native language that you absolutely adore on here (playlists work too!)
been listening to a lot of mitski recently and i think one of the reasons i'm so pulled to most of her higher bpm discography is because of how she puts this eerily whimsical spin to the macabre, leading to a bizarre yet oh-so heart rendering final product
somebody here once said every pluck of a sitar resonates like a pang of grief, and i've never come across a truer description of a sitar's acoustic quality yet
one personal shortcoming of mine is that in jovial and/or memorable company, i almost always end up meditating upon a period of time in which said person will no longer be a part of my life vis-à-vis human impermanence and existential transience
in a way coming across a quote that alters the chemistry of your brain is, to some degree, exactly like getting a tattoo. except this one's etched inside the interiors of your mind
the situation right now is bleak but while we wait with bated breath for a turn of tides, keep talking about the palestinian people. keep talking about Shaima and Assem and Sham. they will never be numbers on a death toll so long as we humanize them
baking a loaf of bread, firing a ceramic mug and the shared theme of supplying warmth to a primitive existent to rework it into something thats larger than life
the way your everydays are meant for you to reinforce and rediscover the tangibility of joy, satisfaction etc and yet, this yearning for an undefined abstract still persists
i've been wanting to start writing again and a friend of mine (love you xiao citrustreet) gave me the realest possible advice, and i feel like it should be put out there to inspire every single would-be writer, or a writer in a bit of a rough patch, or anybody at all
been incessantly ia on here because of real-life happenings but! i’ve aged another year, and although today isn’t the day i make my comeback i do want to keep this going. if you see this reply with your absolute favorite song or album (native language appreciated but not binding)
kind of want to make this a birthday thing so if you come across this tweet! please link a playlist of music, or a song in your native tongue in the replies
no translation ever could capture the nuance and rawness that comes with the specificity of bangla on it’s own but this should still suffice i think (courtesy of
@warmluvs
)
ness
@dionysusvvine
was talking about open browser tabs being cognitive spaces but what if this conceptualization was further expanded upon through comparison with time capsules that capture a projection of you from the fabric of space-time, fated to persevere for eternities?
keep thinking about how many pieces of me (spanning a time period of at least a decade and a half) lay scattered across various crevices of the graveyard that is the internet, frozen in time for time inconceivable (and as it was, as it is, as it will be)
NURI: "whenever I get the feeling of being treated like a product or an object, in my society, i feel a sense of humiliation and loneliness [...] the atmosphere of society forces women to follow a set of rules which makes me feel like being inside a vacuum packed bag"
keep thinking about how many pieces of me (spanning a time period of at least a decade and a half) lay scattered across various crevices of the graveyard that is the internet, frozen in time for time inconceivable (and as it was, as it is, as it will be)
i love watching football and cricket matches simply because of communal culture and getting to collectively immerse myself in conversations centred around them with so many other people! not because im interested in the sports itself