computer science and middle eastern studies. i'm a proud cancer. I’d like to travel back to when the Summer of Love seemed about to re-write all the rules forever. Ideally, I’d wake in some cedarwood pavilion in Old Kyoto, where the maple trees reflect on the tranquil morning lake, but almost immediately I’d have to dress, go out and attend a secret espionage meeting; If I thought about it, I really need to go traveling much more than I do, with no strings, no visas, just the freedom to move and get away whenever I want, and sometimes I wish numbers would add themselves up. I’d like to possess a super-weapon that can deflect any attack, and it would be amazing to see the fluid lines, the brilliant motility of Frank Gehry’s buildings in Bilbao, New York and LA. Pets? A friendly pig would be something of a conversation piece, and you can tell how clean and intelligent they are. Finally, I’d like to throw a party with a bit of South American carnival in it, and maybe I’d invite an angel along, to bring a blessing on everyone there. My wishes.
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“There is an emptiness inside of me- a void that will never be filled. No one in your life will ever love you as your mother does. There is no love as pure, unconditional and strong as a mother’s love. And I will never be loved that way again.”
Hope Edelman, Motherless Daughters: The Legacy of Loss (via zealous-zoey)
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For many of us, our mothers were our biggest cheerleaders. Although they didn’t necessarily agree with every decision we made, at the root of it all, they supported and loved us no matter what. They understood that we would make mistakes and they didn’t judge us for it or love us any less.
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I know that’s what people say– you’ll get over it. I’d say it, too. But I know it’s not true. Oh, you’ll be happy again, never fear. But you won’t forget.
Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (via survivingsiblingsuicide)
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If you know someone who has…lost anybody who’s important to them, and you’re afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died, they didn’t forget they died. You’re not reminding them. What you’re reminding them of is that you remember that they lived, and that’s a great, great gift.
Elizabeth Edwards (via survivingsiblingsuicide)
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Mourning Ensemble
1870-1872
The Metropolitan Museum of Art
This is a mourning ensemble for first mourning, or deep mourning, worn within the first few months of a loved one’s passing. The most important thing here is the veil: long and totally obscuring the face, which comes in handy when you don’t want the world to see your ugly cryface. It’s made of a special textured fabric called crape, which has no luster. Taffeta was also a popular mourning material. Decorations are minimal. All the other accessories a woman might have, like handkerchiefs, gloves, shoes, and parasol, would all be black for mourning. She might have a small piece of memorial jewelry, (btw, hairwork jewelry wasn’t automatically mourning jewelry. Hair jewelry was a common way to show affection and keep loved ones close.) but otherwise jewelry would be minimal or not worn at all.
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Dear Bilingual people
What language do you think in?
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Oliver Sacks was a neurologist whose books and essays about the human brain explored our humanity. In the months after his cancer returned, he wrote beautifully about his own death. Sacks died on Sunday.
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Historic England has listed 19 ‘rare and overlooked’ inter-war pubs in a bid to save this endangered species from the wrecking ball.
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A cartoon by Tom Toro. See more cartoons from this week’s issue.
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I used to call people, then I got into e-mailing, then texting, and now I just ignore everyone.
Unknown, The New Yorker (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
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even let you undress my mind. #alinabaraz I can #makeyoufeel alright.
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