Jewishvoiceforpeace: This Is What Genocide Looks Like. These Are The 2913 Palestinian Children Killed

16 April, 2007. A girl becomes embarrassed after giving flowers to a female US soldier on duty in the northern Iraqi city of Mosul.

“When you can tell your story and it doesn’t make you cry, that’s when you know you’ve healed.”

— Unknown

“Not everyone deserves to know the real you. Let them criticize who they think you are.”

— Unknown

I write to you, of you, not because our souls are intertwined, neither because you're mine or I'm yours, but because I do not know of any other audience, for these thoughts, in the form of mere words, for this fragmented existence, which reveals through the cracks of past experiences, to lose itself in the captivating beauty, that is yourself.

- DG

unstoppable force (pattern-seeking brain) vs immovable object (mcr strictly doing things randomly)

This is true…

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I instantly fell in love with Taylor Swift's song 'Anti-Hero.'

It is rare to find any new music with intelligent, quality lyrics, and it tells the story! Beautiful Poetry!

MIDNIGHTS – OCTOBER 21, 2022

It’s a momentary glimmer of distraction. The tiniest notion of reminiscent thought that wanders off into wondering, the spark that lights a tinderbox of fixation. And now it is irreversible. The flame has caught. You’re wide awake.

Maybe it’s that one urgent question you meant to ask someone years ago but didn’t. Someone that slipped through the cracks in your history, and they’re are too far gone now anyway. All the ghost ships that have sailed and sailed away, but at this hour, they’ve anchored in your harbor. They sit with flags waving, bright and beautiful. And it’s almost like it’s real.

We lie awake in love and in fear and in turmoll and in tears. We stare at walls and drink until they speak back. We twist in our self-made cages and pray that we aren’t — right this minute — about to make some fateful life-altering mistake. This is a collection of music written in the middle of the night, a journey through terrors and sweet dreams. The floors we pace and the demons we face. For all of us who have tossed and turned and decided to keep the lanterns lit and go searching. Hoping that just maybe, when the clock strikes twelve… we’ll meet ourselves.

“I’m the only one that’s allowed to touch you like this. Do you understand?”

🫠🫠🫠