about the gundam 00 movie ending
one of the things i really like about it is the fact that that first(?) interstellar journey was made specifically to communicate with an alien lifeform, to understand the plight of other living beings, instead of being another iteration of colonization or an exploration for the sake of exploration due to our human nature etc etc
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anyways i read the caraval trilogy recently
and
it easily became ONE of my favourite trilogies ever! it's so whimsical and amazing and i felt like i dove straight first into a rabbit hole into alice's wonderland! everything was so magical and vivid, so beautifull descriptive, and the first book definitely made me existential crisis with how challenging and INTRIGUING it was! (cough cough julian santos king of my heart body and soul ily)
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Time to share another of my favorite Christian poems with you all. It’s a martyrdom poem by Varlam Shalamov, a victim of the Soviet gulags and also the writer of Kolyma Tales. A few favorite stanza are written out here; the entire poem is typed out below. It’s a little on the long end, but entirely worth it.
“Avvakum in Pustozyorsk” by Varlam Shalamov
The walls of my church
are the ribs of my heart;
it seems life and I
are soon bound to part
.
My cross now rises,
traced with two fingers.
In Pustozyorsk it blazes;
its blaze will linger.
.
I’m glorified everywhere,
vilified, branded;
I have already become
the stuff of legend.
.
I was, people say,
full of anger and spite;
I suffered, I died
for the ancient rite.
.
But this popular verdict
is ugly nonsense;
I hear and reject
the implied censure.
.
The rite is nothing—
neither wrong nor right;
a rite is a trifle
in God’s sight.
.
But they attacked our faith
in the ways of the past,
in all we’d learned as children
and taken to heart.
.
In their holy garments,
in their grand hats,
with a cold crucifix
in their cold hands,
.
in thrall to a terror
clutching their souls,
they drag us to jails
and herd us to scaffolds.
.
We don’t mind about the doctrine
books and their age;
we don’t debate virtues
of fetters and chains.
.
Our dispute is of freedom,
and the right to breathe—
about the Lord’s will
to bind as he please.
.
The healers of souls
chastised our bodies;
while they schemed and plotted,
we ran to the forests.
.
Despite their decrees,
we hurled our words
out of the lion’s mouth
and into the world.
.
We called for just vengeance
against their sins;
along with the Lord,
we sang poems and hymns.
.
The words of the Lord
were claps of thunder.
The Church endures;
it will never go under.
.
And I, unyielding,
reading the Psalter,
was brought to the gates
of the Andronikov Monastery.
.
I was young;
I endured every pain:
hunger, beatings,
interrogations.
.
A winged angel
shut the eyes of the guard,
brought me cabbage soup,
and a hunk of bread.
.
I crossed the threshold—
and I walked free.
Embracing my Exile,
I walked to the east.
.
I held services
by the Amur River,
where I barely survived
the winds and blizzards.
.
They branded my cheeks
with brands of frost;
by a mountain stream
they tore out my nostrils.
.
But the path to the Lord
goes from jail to jail;
the path to the Lord
never changes.
.
And all too few,
since Jesus’s days,
have proved able to bear
God’s all-seeing gaze.
.
Nastasia, Nastasia,
do not despair;
true joy often wears
a garment of tears.
.
Whatever temptations
may beat in your heart,
whatever torments
may rip you apart,
.
walk on in peace,
through a thousand troubles
and fear not the serpent
that bites at your ankles—
.
though not from Eden
has this snake crawled;
it is an envoy of evil
from Satan’s hand.
.
Here, birdsong
is unknown;
here one learns the patience
and the wisdom of stone.
.
I have seen no color
except lingonberry
in fourteen years
spent as a prisoner.
.
But this is not madness,
nor a waking nightmare;
it is my soul’s fortress,
its will and freedom.
.
And now they are leading me
far away in fetters;
my yoke is easy
and my burden grows lighter.
.
My track is swept clean
and dusted with silver;
I’m climbing to heaven
on wings of fire.
.
Through cold and hunger,
through grief and fear
towards God, like a dove,
I will rise from the pyre.
.
O far-away Russia—
I give you my vow
to return to the sky
forgiving my foe.
.
May I be reviled,
and burned at the stake;
may my ashes be cast
on the mountain wind.
.
There is no fate sweeter,
no better end,
than to knock, as ash,
at the door of the human heart.
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This episode really went from bdsm to soft emo boyfriends to highschool breakup drama
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currently crying over young royals season 2 hbu
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