This happened right down the street from my house.
I went to school with him.
I even spoke to him a few times.
Everybody who knew him said he was a really good kid.
Keep spreading this.
oh well isn’t this fucked
i got an anon ask about this the other day and i did hella research on it, shits fucked up.
on the news they said that the police were mocking him when he was dying on the ground, what a shame
|—||Bree Despain, from The Dark Divine (EgmontUSA, 2009)|
Florence, Tuscany - Italy (© Giuseppe Torre)
“There are those fortunate hours when the world consents to be made into a poem.”
The exceeding brightness of this early sun
Makes me conceive how dark I have become.
—Wallace Stevens, opening lines to “The Sun This March” from The Palm at the End of the Mind: Selected Poems and Play (Alfred A. Knopf, 1971)
“As of today, I’ve spent more than 11 years in Guantánamo Bay. To be precise, it’s been 4,084 long days and nights. I’ve never been charged with any crime. I’ve never been allowed to see the evidence that the US once pretended they had against me. It’s all secret, even the statements they tortured out of me.” - Shaker Aamer, held in Guantánamo prison since 2002, cleared for release six years ago. Aamer has been on hunger strike for 70 days. Read his op-ed.
|—||Patti Smith’s beautiful tribute to Virginia Woolf, who took her own life on March 28, 1941. (via explore-blog)|
On March 25, my stepfather went to the emergency room after experiencing chest pains. It was determined that he’d suffered a heart attack. Doctors immediately performed double bypass surgery, which lasted for 5 hours. During that time, my mother and I sat in the waiting room of the hospital…
pronunciation | “so-frO-‘sU-nA
Greek script | σωφροσύνη
note | To everyone who is thinking “I want to get there” and also to everyone who is thinking “I’ll never get there”—you will. Even if it’s a battle, keep fighting, because you are good and strong and valuable, and your happiness is worth it.
YES YES YES, this is why his movies are brilliant.
Your soft limbs hide the outline of wings.
At the verge of thirteen, your toes grip the edge.]
Beneath your feet, a wind you dare not predict.