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Linda Forsell. Cause of Death Woman. 

War (Congo)

A Girl’s pride is in a man’s house - proverb, Congo

In War, rape is a weapon. Every single day approximately 40 women are raped in Eastern Congo, hundreds of thousands were raped during the genocide in Rwanda in 1994, and Europe is no exception with in between  20.000 and 50.000 rapes during the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

The violations are not just a simple display of frustration among soldiers. It is a conscious military strategy through wich the opponent is humiliated and it’s moral reduced. Rape attacks break apart families, render leaders feeling powerless and inadequate and ruin communities; all in the same instance as giving the attackers an adrelanin surge and a sense of power.

1.Congo: All of these women were raped in attacks by the militia, in eastern Congo.

2 & 3. Congo: The relentless violence perpetraded by different guerilla groups in the remote Eastern Congo strike women with adamant force. Rape is used as a weapon.

4. Congo: A young man with a large portion of regret in his voice, recollects how two of his four sisters were raped during an attack by the guerilla group FLDR.

5. Congo: Love used to be a child soldier.

6 & 7 Congo: Panzi Hospital was at first known as ‘the fistula hospital’ when it was founded in 1999, but the war victims soon took up more and more of the beds. Mutilated, raped and traumatized women sought out the well-ordered hospital area.

8. Congo: Pupils listen carefully when told about how you cannot treat women.

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“What is a rebel? A man who says no.” — Albert Camus

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We must be our own before we can be another’s.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (via theohpioneer)

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Life is a gnawing in the belly

that grows and grows, a seed

forgotten, swallowed from a lunch

of pomegranate, its roots spreading

throughout, bringing singular knowledge.

Life is tendrils wrapping around heart

and soul, a tether to the earth, an eye

towards an endless sky,...

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I always give books. And I always ask for books. I think you should reward people sexually for getting you books. Don’t send a thank-you note, repay them with sexual activity. If the book is rare or by your favorite author or one you didn’t know about, reward them with the most perverted sex act you can think of. Otherwise, you can just make out.

John Waters | NYT

(via kateoplis)

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It’s said it takes seven years to grow completely new skin cells. To think, this year I will grow into a body you never will have touched.

Brett Elizabeth Jenkins, December 21st, 2002 (via theoryoflostthings)

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Walt Whitman

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And she’s going to learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.

Sarah Kay, If I Should Have a Daughter

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Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.

The Little Prince (via wordsthat-speak)

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Time flows in a strange way on Sundays.

Haruki Murakami (via 7000km-in-aer)

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I am a collection of dismantled almosts.

Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait In Letters (via violentwavesofemotion)

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A haiku from the article: Amy Tan: By the Book

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I just knew in a quiet way I was ruined. If I agreed to be female. There was so much evidence on the screen and in books. I read Doris Lessing in literature class and that depressed the shit out of me too. I just hated reading work by women or about women because it always added up the same. Loss of self, endless self-abnegation even as the female was trying to be an artist, she wound up pregnant, desperate, waiting on some man. A Marxist guy, perhaps. When would it end.

Eileen Myles, in her foreword to I Love Dick by Chris Kraus (via beautravail)

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Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives… and to the ‘good life,’ whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.

Hunter S. Thompson (via the-beauty-in-chaos-quotes)

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I know that I have died before—once in November.

Anne Sexton, from Suicide Note (via violentwavesofemotion)

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A writer, I think, is someone who pays attention to the world. That means trying to understand, take in, connect with, what wickedness human beings are capable of; and not be corrupted — made cynical, superficial — by this understanding.

Susan Sontag on literature and freedom (via explore-blog)

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When one is alone, imperfection must be endured every minute of the day; a couple, however, does not have to put up with it. Aren’t our eyes made to be torn out, and our hearts for the same purpose? At the same time it’s really not that bad; that’s an exaggeration and a lie, everything is exaggeration, the only truth is longing. But even the truth of longing is not so much its own truth; it’s really an expression for everything else, which is a lie. This sounds crazy and distorted, but it’s true. Moreover, perhaps it isn’t love when I say you are what I love the most - you are the knife I turn inside myself, this is love. This, my dear, is love.

Franz Kafka, Letters To Milena (via ryantippery)