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babygirl i can and will get confused by instructions you didn't even know could be misinterpreted

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I must not mock Gen Alpha. Mocking Gen Alpha is the mind killer. Mocking Gen Alpha is the little-death that brings total generational solidarity obliteration. I will engage with Gen Alpha lovingly. I will permit them to be cringe. And when they grow up I will turn my eye to their accomplishments. Where mocking has gone there will be nothing. Only generational solidarity remains

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I used to be really annoyingly smug about having perfect grammar, but honestly, these days I will admit that a person who misspells a word so badly that I have to sound out the individual letters to phonetically put together what word that's supposed to be, that kind of person is braver than I am. They heard a word in a conversation and have never seen it in writing and decided to just take a wild leap of faith and hope that their best guess is close enough.

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“You go to work the next day pretending nothing happened. Your co-workers ask if everything’s okay and you tell them you’re just tired. And you’re trying to smile. And they’re trying to smile.” ― Richard Siken

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4 shades of blue captured in a single image in Antarctica

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letterpress postcards by Pottering Cat, Japan

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flowers in the community garden. watercolor on toned paper~

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there was no perfect path. you did not get punished. your life did not unravel when you made a left turn. the memory will always be there. you can visit whenever you want. there is no alternate timeline where you made a better choice and got a happier ending. you were a little girl chasing the ice cream truck, playing hopscotch, swinging and aiming for the never ending blue. yes, the grief was waiting up ahead. but so was the miracle of saturdays in a car headed wherever you wanted to go. enough sky to wrap around every wound. friends who, despite your perennial bouts of silence, kept an ear close at all times.

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photography by Charles Fréger from his "Wilder Mann" series

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pour qu'une chose soit intéressante, il faut la regarder longtemps (g. flaubert)

(jour 8)

tout un univers dans un grain de sable. souvent, l'immensité de la plage m'effraie. c'est très petit une plage. c'est cloisonné finalement, on a beau dire la mer, la mer, ô la mer, elle n'est qu'une frontière de plus, qui a déjà traversé la mer? la plage, ce cloisonnement, cet espace fini où l'infini transperce pourtant dans chaque volume. chaque grain de sable un univers. chaque vaguelette un raz-de-marée, un effacement total, une redistribution des rôles dans la grande pièce de la plage.

j'ai une déformation professionnelle: je compte. à tout instant je compte. à tout moment je compte. j'estime, j'arrondis, je jauge, je mesure. je tempère. je compare. j'ordre de grandeur. je classe. je minimise, maximise, égalise. mais la plage me reste une énigme. combien de grains, combien d'étages, de mètres carrés, quel volume, et sous la mer? combien s'en cache-t-il sous la mer? où commencer le décompte, où clôre la somme?

dans cet infini pourtant circonscrit, vient toujours l'heure du lâcher-prise: la plus belle. enfin il convient de mettre un terme au système métrique, qui, impuissant, se retire. on peut se délier les mains, secouer un peu la tête pour se sortir des brumes entêtantes de grands nombres. on peut laisser se courber la nuque, toujours très droite quand il s'agit de classification. délicatement on peut embrasser la mer, sans à-coups ni gestes brusques. enfin on peut fermer les yeux, puisqu'il n'y a plus rien d'autre à faire. sinon se concentrer sur les détails. toujours, les détails. ils nous resteront bien après les chiffres.

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Sofia Steinberg | © Szilveszter Mako Numéro Fr #248 (October 2024)

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Hello Portfolioday !

I'm Bison a woodcarver from France.

Here is my website and my linktree :

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Okok, I know. but look at these two frens.

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fuuuuck that is my circus. are those…? yep… those are my monkeys….. goddammit.

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Beauty Sleep - Rachel Parker

American , b. ?

Watercolour on paper , 10 x 12 in.

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by dimda_