I want for money not to matter, but it’s so hard to do that especially when you’ve people to be responsible for. Some day perhaps, I’ll find the courage to leave my job to travel and see the world, but I know now isn’t the time.

There’s something on my heart that can’t be lifted

— I give in to wintering —

You won’t see me till the buds start to blossom
Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh, from “Wintering”, translated by Billy Ramsell (via the-final-sentence)

image

It’s a rainy Saturday afternoon, and I’m in a cafe reading a book when I noticed, not far from where I was sat a boy and a girl. “I’m scared,” he says, “that if anyone were to find out, I’d be damned.” She saw the fear in his eyes, extended her hands out and held his in hers though she didn’t understand - not yet, anyway - why he felt the way he did. A moment passed.

"I’m gay," he announced. The tears that he had held back from the time he sat down to the time he uttered those words had finally passed. She tightened her grip on his hands as though to assure him that nothing had changed, and that he was loved for who he was. 

That was the moment for me because two things happened. One was that I realized, “Oh my god, I don’t feel like that anymore but he does and I get it!” and the second was I knew that I had nothing to be afraid of, but he didn’t. I wanted to go up to him and give a hug, tell him I was where he is now before but that I had gained strength from it, and he will too.

ontheborderland:

Sometimes I wonder why the old ukiyo-e prints always have quaint scenes of snow softly piling up on the roofs of old Tokyo.  I can count on one hand the number of times it has snowed here in the last three winters.
And oh, how I wish it would—because then things like this happen.
Image:  Hiroshige, “Evening Snow at Asukayama” from Eight Views in the Neighborhood of Edo, 1837-8.

ontheborderland:

Sometimes I wonder why the old ukiyo-e prints always have quaint scenes of snow softly piling up on the roofs of old Tokyo.  I can count on one hand the number of times it has snowed here in the last three winters.

And oh, how I wish it would—because then things like this happen.

Image:  Hiroshige, “Evening Snow at Asukayama” from Eight Views in the Neighborhood of Edo, 1837-8.

I’m walking home exhausted from the laps at the pool when I see a kid kicking this poor, defenseless little thing while his mum looked on and did nothing to stop. I couldn’t stand what I was seeing, and so I went over to the kid, forcefully shoved him aside and screamed at him. His mum, seeing what’s happened, walked over to interrogate. I swore there were instances when I came close to punching the mum’s face, but I didn’t luckily; instead, I told her off, “Maybe if you taught your kid some fucking manners, then I wouldn’t have to scream the living shit out of him.” Not wanting to pursue it further than I already had, I catnapped the little one in my arms and walked away before letting him go some place safe from the monstrosities that breeds in some people.

I’m walking home exhausted from the laps at the pool when I see a kid kicking this poor, defenseless little thing while his mum looked on and did nothing to stop. I couldn’t stand what I was seeing, and so I went over to the kid, forcefully shoved him aside and screamed at him. His mum, seeing what’s happened, walked over to interrogate. I swore there were instances when I came close to punching the mum’s face, but I didn’t luckily; instead, I told her off, “Maybe if you taught your kid some fucking manners, then I wouldn’t have to scream the living shit out of him.” Not wanting to pursue it further than I already had, I catnapped the little one in my arms and walked away before letting him go some place safe from the monstrosities that breeds in some people.

My dear friend, and a mother to a beautiful boy, and I met two nights ago over coffee. We were catching up on life when she told me how her son had let go of her hand and didn’t look back on his first day at preschool.
"It hurts," she said, "to be let go, but it was the good kind. I know in my heart that he’ll come back to me again in time… a little less perfect, but that’s okay because that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Imperfections?" I never told her this that night but I was so proud of the woman she has become.

My dear friend, and a mother to a beautiful boy, and I met two nights ago over coffee. We were catching up on life when she told me how her son had let go of her hand and didn’t look back on his first day at preschool.

"It hurts," she said, "to be let go, but it was the good kind. I know in my heart that he’ll come back to me again in time… a little less perfect, but that’s okay because that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Imperfections?" I never told her this that night but I was so proud of the woman she has become.

We are built to grow, but we’re also built to become weaker but it is in that weakness we find strength.

invisiblestories:

A man and a glacier, 1902

Really does put everything into perspective, doesn’t it?

On Clubbing

I’ve, for some time, wanted to quit clubbing but I keep going back to it. Two weeks ago, I was at Taboo, a gay club in Singapore, and there was this moment of clarity, amidst the loud music and the dancing, when I asked myself, “What the hell am I doing here?”

Except for just one person I was with that night, I was spendingtime with people I didn’t care for. I looked around on the dance floor and saw the same faces from week after week, and that terrified me. I didn’t want to be them. I didn’t want to be forty and still be hitting the clubs.

Perhaps it is time to slow down. I’ve decided that to quit it completely isn’t going to work out in the immediate future (considering the many failed attempts at it over the past six months); cutting it down to once a month, however, seems to be a viable option… Wish me luck!

alexanderchee:

jonnodotcom:

John d’AddarioGüvercinlik Vadesi (Pigeon Valley), Nevşehir, Turkey2012

I’ve always loved pigeons. I don’t know why.

alexanderchee:

jonnodotcom:

John d’Addario
Güvercinlik Vadesi (Pigeon Valley), Nevşehir, Turkey
2012

I’ve always loved pigeons. I don’t know why.