Grass, Sand, Snow
Later on, I told the children we smashed the sled for fuel, though this was a lie. Mostly we were tired of the memories. The sled, with its polished, steel rails and hickory seating, reminded us what winter used to be. The children still loved it, however, and it was occasionally useful, so Alex and I came up with an excuse: We would go hunting; drag the sled along in case we caught a deer; and—horror of horrors!—lose our way. We’d spend the night in the forest, break up the sled, use the wood for fire, and return dutifully with the precious metallic remains.
So it went.
We hunted, in a manner of speaking, with a perfunctory eye out for deer, but Alex had lost his prescription lenses a long time ago and our glassmaker couldn’t nail bifocals, so that was that. As for me, my heart wasn’t into the hunting. I loved venison, but I didn’t want to shoot any deer. I just wanted to burn the fucking sled.
Hidden Trap
Street magician called everyone
Come, come see my tricks.
His son plays an old dram
But not rhythmic, like their life.
The magician had few snakes,
In his bamboo vessel.
And his aim hides in tricks
In the road, people don’t mind it.
Magician loudly call again and again
Come and see lot of tricks.
Some people attend his verse
And they are waiting for magic.
He played some old tricks,
At lag end he displays few anklets.
And sell with slick offer.
Wear it for good future and get fortune
He trade on the people in second.
We are the victim of street magicians,
They vend us very tactically.
Someone told us adagio,
Present world fast and terrible
by Nandakumar Chellappanachary
from Thanal Online
Quiproquo 140 (Piano) - Shiro Sagisu
Evangelion: 3.33 You Can (Not) Redo
(Source: pokemonmysterydungeons)
"And they are ignorant that the purpose of the sword is to save every man from slavery.” -Marcus"
- Annaeus Lucanus; Roman poet (A.D. 39-65)
(Source: iamafencer)
"Last night I dreamed about you. What happened in detail I can hardly remember, all I know is that we kept merging into one another. I was you, you were me. Finally you somehow caught fire."
- Franz Kafka (via ugh)
(Source: paperbackwords, via shomei)
The Sacred and the Profane, by Anita Felicelli
“It is fair to say that India is deplorably behind the curve when it comes to Indian women’s rights. Yes, misogyny and brutality exist in India. In the American rush to condemn a foreign culture, however, let’s not forget that women brave, bold, and strong enough to protest the rape exist in the culture, and are emblematic of India’s culture, as well. There is a total silence in the West on India’s culture of dissenting women in the face of severe patriarchy and authoritarianism. It doesn’t quite fit, does it, into the dichotomy carved out for Indian women by Americans and the British, being neither sacred nor profane, but a bit heroic.”
(Source: therumpus.net, via therumpus)
