peoplehavealwaysbeenpeople
People Have Always Been People
524 posts
Sonder (n.): the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.  ______________________________________________ A blog dedicated to feeling like the song Someone New by Hozier, to the love of passing strangers, long dead ancestors, and to the warm, joyous feeling of connection across time and culture that reminds us that people have always been people.
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A group of rough looking boys walked past me today and all I heard of their conversation was “he’s got that anxiety disorder bro so I went with him so he’d be more comfortable” and it made me realise the world isn’t all that bad
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i cant truly explain why but i almost cried yesterday while talking to a woman who studies medieval rus goldwork embroidery, who explained that there is a very particular method that is used to do goldwork embroidery called couching that keeps the thread on the top of the fabric (compared to normal embroidery techniques, where the thread goes over and under the fabric for each stitch) to conserve the very expensive gold thread and this technique is seen historically on more or less all examples of goldwork pieces commissioned by the church, nobility, or chivalric orders from goldwork guilds. however, rural gravesites reveal that lots of people, not just the wealthy, owned a small piece or two of goldwork embroidery, usually collars or cuffs, that were made by someone they knew. these pieces were almost universally made using typical embroidery techniques, meaning they used up twice the gold thread. something about the idea of people, so long ago, saving up to make something beautiful and expensive and special for someone they love, even lacking the specialized knowledge to do it the "proper" way, is so human to me.
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literally no better feeling than blurting out some loud dumbass joke with your buddies and hearing a total stranger ugly-snort-laugh as they walk past bc their own laughter caught them by surprise. find joy and connection in the spontaneity of strangers you son of a bitch. i fucking got your ass
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‘Pumpie' 
Elephant soft toy made of grey felt, dressed as a sailor in a smart, dark blue, woolen jacket and matching trousers, England, 1900.
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The discovery of the statue of Antinous in Delphi, Greece in 1894
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yk what I love? that the first text we have written by a woman in England was a Roman woman inviting her best friend to her birthday
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nobody is irrelevant. nobody is invisible. your neighbors know your name and see you set off to school or work or the backyard everyday, sometimes with a spring in your step and sometimes with hunched over shoulders. there was this one time some stranger pointed you out to their friends and said “that’s the haircut I want” or “I have that shirt, too” or “they go to my school”. someone has admired the way you carry yourself or gave a presentation or even the way you’re so polite when you first meet a person. you’ve made comments or jokes that have stuck in minds of overhearers and eavesdroppers. when old classmates of yours think back to kindergarten or fourth grade or sophomore year they remember you and have an opinion of you. you’ve made recommendations of songs and restaurants and even cookie brands and actually introduced people to their all-time favorites. the cashier at the grocery store knows exactly what laundry detergent your household uses, or even if you don’t do your laundry at all.
you can never be irrelevant. there’s pieces of you everywhere, in a dozen lives, in a hundred dreams, in a million memories. maybe it’s true that you don’t have any friends, and you have a sucky relationship with your family or no family at all and no-one ever checks up on you, and you’re really very lonely, but that doesn’t determine your worth. you do. and so do the billions of small attributions you’ve already made to the world, both long-term and short-term. so thank you.
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And to think that it takes very little to make a child happy....
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i made your favorite dish. i made you something you’ve never tried before. i love you. i spent twenty minutes chopping. my grandmother made this for me when i was little. i made this dairy free for you. i love you. i want to eat together. the onions made me cry. i love you. i learned this recipe for you. i love you. i made this special for your birthday. i love you. i know you don’t like peppers. i love you. i love you. i love you.
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Confiscated pens containing cheat notes intricately carved by a student at the University of Malaga, Spain. (2022)
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oh im gonna be weird about this for so long
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i don’t know. i’m barely a person. i just want to be kind and hold someone’s hand. eat an ice cream cone. stare at the lake. feel the sun on my skin. lay in the grass. run through a sprinkler. it’s so easy to forget life is supposed to feel like a deep breath and not a gasp
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suphil lee park, from “aerial view of maze” / “archaeologists uncover children’s hand and foot prints in what’s thought to be the oldest cave art to date” published on colossal / rebecca doverspike, from “every present thing, a ghost of something” / gabrielle bates, from “dear birmingham”/ ripples from ~2 billion years ago, from this post / louise glück, from “poem”
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life is actually about thanking the bus driver when you get off the bus
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This dog was documented chasing a 'Kakao Maps' street view camera around a small South Korean island, it is featured in more than 1000 images of the island.
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I was rambling on the issue of museums and human remains and how certain populations are more likely to have their bodies put on display to be gawked at and then went "well I guess the Pompeii casts were of Europeans. there are bones in there right?" and Googled it to make sure, at which point I confirmed that yes there are bones in there, but more interestingly DNA testing revealed that a cast of an adult holding a child everyone assumed was a mother and child were, in fact, a man and a kid entirely unrelated to him. Honestly that's more moving to me. Maybe they were connected in a way other than blood, but maybe a stranger saw a child when the world was ending and thought the one thing he could do was hold them.
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We have always loved and we will continue to love. Oh, the beauty of human connection!
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