OKAY so i just saw the most ridiculous thing at the store today
so we come across this thing
and we discover you can turn it inside out and
ITS HELLO KITTY I’M
HSE’S EVEN GOT HER OWN LITTLE CHICKEN DRUMSTICK IM SO DONE
why the fuck
(via enasnivolz)
The Spanish men left babies right and left. When most of the indias had given birth to mixed-blood children, when all the lands had been divided, our labor shared out in the encomienda, and no more caciques went out to battle them, they said the people were gone. How could we be gone? We were the brown and olive and cream-colored children of our mothers: Arawak, Maya, Lucaya, stolen women from all the shores of the sea. When we cooked, it was the food our mothers had always given us. We still pounded yuca and caught crabs. We still seasoned our stews with ají and wore cotton skirts. When we burned their fields, stole their cattle, set fire to their boats, they said we were someone else. What was wrong with their eyes? We mixed our blood together like sancocho and calalú. But the mother things stayed with us.
when an artist wants to show you their art
or a writer wants you to read what they’ve written
it’s quite often an expression of trust
because a poem or a story or a painting are often things that come from the heart
little pieces of the artists themselves
and if they’re willing to share it with you
you should appreciate it
(via natisparanoia)
