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“I have preferred to teach my students not English literature but my love for certain authors, or, even better, certain pages, or even better than that, certain lines. One falls in love with a line, then with a page, then with an author. Well, why not? It is a beautiful process.” ― Jorge Luis Borges

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My dad has bees. Today, I went to his house and he showed me all the honey he had gotten from the hives. He took the lid off a 5-gallon bucket full of honey and on top of the honey there were 3 little bees, struggling. They were covered in sticky honey and drowning. I asked him if we could help them and he said he was sure they wouldn't survive. Casualties of honey collection I suppose.

I asked him again if we could at least get them out and kill them quickly, after all he was the one who taught me to put a suffering animal (or bug) out of its misery. He finally conceded and scooped the bees out of the bucket. He put them in an empty Chobani yogurt container and put the plastic container outside.

Because he had disrupted the hive with the earlier honey collection, there were bees flying all over outside.

We put the 3 little bees in the container on a bench and left them to their fate. My dad called me out a little while later to show me what was happening. These three little bees were surrounded by all their sisters (all of the bees are females) and they were cleaning the sticky nearly dead bees, helping them to get all of the honey off of their bodies. We came back a short time later and there was only one little bee left in the container. She was still being tended to by her sisters.

When it was time for me to leave, we checked one last time and all three of the bees had been cleaned off enough to fly away and the container was empty.

Those three little bees lived because they were surrounded by family and friends who would not give up on them, family and friends who refused to let them drown in their own stickiness and resolved to help until the last little bee could be set free.

Bee Sisters. Bee Peers. Bee Teammates.

We could all learn a thing or two from these bees.

Bee kind always.

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Agathario + matching each other's freak + text posts Part 2 (part 1) "Bonus":

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The thing is lads I cannot think of a better use for my tax dollars than feeding children. I want my taxes to give the single mother of three healthcare. I want my taxes to take care of the elderly and the disabled. I don’t care if they’re citizens or legal residents or whatever. I want my taxes to help people. Because we’re trying to live in a goddamn society. Instead my taxes go towards bombing schools and hospitals and refugee camps. Billions and billions sent to proxy wars. And still people quibble over whether we should feed children. What are we doing here. Feed the kids.

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I was today years old when i found out that i was allowed time off to vote. Something no boss has ever told me.

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Equal opportunity benefits can be far-reaching

https://twitter.com/sarahmei/status/818682610712866817

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This is the most chaotic good thing I’ve ever seen

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Rhaenyra watching Vermithor decimate those poor souls from her balcony like it's a concert

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Me thinking why a whale (big) would eat krill (small) and then I remembered rice (yum)

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Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), poem 85 from “The Gardener”, 1914 Translated by the author from the original Bengali. New York: The Macmillan Company.

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I love you samosas. I love you empanadas. I love you pasties. I love you dumplings. I love you pirozhkis. I love you savory food in a convenient little carb purse.

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Iowa State Law Library l christosjpalios l U.S.