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“Tell no lies. Expose lies whenever they are told. Mask no difficulties, mistakes, failures. Claim no easy victories.”

— Amilcar Cabral

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i just spent eighty rupees on a peeler that promises to noodle my vegetables. i haven't experienced excitement like this in two weeks.

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Iranian Matchboxes.

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Karl Marx (letter to Engels, 1868) "The whole shit is breaking down."

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some of you aren’t even perverts you just have normal sexual desires that you are ashamed of

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here is Gil Scott-Heron performing his poem "Whitey on the Moon"

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Yuko Shimizu, ''Little Nemo Dream Another Dream'', 2014

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The Dabous Giraffes - neolithic petroglyphs found in Saharan Niger estimated to be 6,000 to 8,000 years old. The bigger of the two giraffes is 5.4 meters long and is the largest known petroglyph in the world.

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La béquille d’Achille - Henry Chetaille

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The Simple Truth

I bought a dollar and a half's worth of small red potatoes, took them home, boiled them in their jackets and ate them for dinner with a little butter and salt. Then I walked through the dried fields on the edge of town. In middle June the light hung on in the dark furrows at my feet, and in the mountain oaks overhead the birds were gathering for the night, the jays and mockers squawking back and forth, the finches still darting into the dusty light. The woman who sold me the potatoes was from Poland; she was someone out of my childhood in a pink spangled sweater and sunglasses praising the perfection of all her fruits and vegetables at the road-side stand and urging me to taste even the pale, raw sweet corn trucked all the way, she swore, from New Jersey. "Eat, eat" she said, "Even if you don't I'll say you did." Some things you know all your life. They are so simple and true they must be said without elegance, meter and rhyme, they must be laid on the table beside the salt shaker, the glass of water, the absence of light gathering in the shadows of picture frames, they must be naked and alone, they must stand for themselves. My friend Henri and I arrived at this together in 1965 before I went away, before he began to kill himself, and the two of us to betray our love. Can you taste what I'm saying? It is onions or potatoes, a pinch of simple salt, the wealth of melting butter, it is obvious, it stays in the back of your throat like a truth you never uttered because the time was always wrong, it stays there for the rest of your life, unspoken, made of that dirt we call earth, the metal we call salt, in a form we have no words for, and you live on it.

— Philip Levine, "The Simple Truth" in "The Simple Truth: Poems" (Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group; September 3, 1996)

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Yeshwant Rao

Arun Kolatkar

Are you looking for a god? I know a good one. His name is Yeshwant Rao and he’s one of the best. look him up when you are in Jejuri next. Of course he’s only a second class god and his place is just outside the main temple. Outside even of the outer wall. As if he belonged among the tradesmen and the lepers. I’ve known gods prettier faced or straighter laced. Gods who soak you for your gold. Gods who soak you for your soul. Gods who make you walk on a bed of burning coal. Gods who put a child inside your wife. Or a knife inside your enemy. Gods who tell you how to live your life, double your money or triple your land holdings. Gods who can barely suppress a smile as you crawl a mile for them. Gods who will see you drown if you won’t buy them a new crown. And although I’m sure they’re all to be praised, they’re either too symmetrical or too theatrical for my taste. Yeshwant Rao, mass of basalt, bright as any post box, the shape of protoplasm or king size lava pie thrown against the wall, without an arm, a leg or even a single head. Yeshwant Rao. He’s the god you’ve got to meet. If you’re short of a limb, Yeshwant Rao will lend you a hand and get you back on your feet. Yeshwant Rao Does nothing spectacular. He doesn’t promise you the earth Or book your seat on the next rocket to heaven. But if any bones are broken, you know he’ll mend them. He’ll make you whole in your body and hope your spirit will look after itself. He is merely a kind of a bone-setter. The only thing is, as he himself has no heads, hands and feet, he happens to understand you a little better.

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Exposé du film annonce du film “Scénario” (2024), Jean-Luc Godard, Fabrice Aragno, Jean-Paul Battaggia, Nicole Brenez

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you're the only one who understands me mr strobbery

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Detail from the artwork "Kopf-Stein-Pflaster" by Timm Ulrichs from 1980/1994 after the head of the Artist.

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Miles Cleveland Goodwin aka M.C. Goodwin (American, b. 1980, Biloxi, MS, USA) - Life, 2018, Paintings: Oil on Linen

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Vojtěch Preissig (Czech, 1873-1944, b. Světec, Czechia, d. concentration camp in Dachau, Germany) - Seven Ravens, folio 13 from the album Coloured Etchings, 1903, Etching