WhatAtinyWorld

"Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, 
          We fell them down and turn them into paper,
          That we may record our emptiness."
          
          Kahlil Gibran
          
          KAHLIL!!!!! CRYING 

The new profile is stunning! If you made it, the graphics skills are admirable!

"Men have often reduced his voice to gasps and weeping. They have crushed the power to speak from his body, from many bodies.
          
          But words written down outlive the vulnerabilities of the flesh. 
          
          Recorded words can be passed along. In one form or another they will be passed along. Movement is their essential nature." 
          
          - Karen Connelly, The Lizard Cage 
          
          I love how this books speaks about words, about writing, in such a validating way for the power of it all.

"• whatever Rida's new @ is."
          
          I AM SOBBING I LOVE YOU

I hope you know that your presence is appreciated greatly.  Unfortunate to have not informed of this before, as it was very much deserved and therefore regretfully overdue. 
          Life’s been relentless, but you’ve remained a pillar of strength. Please continue to the best of your endeavours.

"As long as there is paper, people will write, 
          
          secretly, in small rooms, in the hidden chambers of their minds, just as people whisper the words they're forbidden to speak aloud.
          
          Words are like ants. 
          
          They work their way through the thickest walls, eating through bricks and feeding off the very silence intended to stifle them."
          
          - Karen Connelly, The Lizard Cage

It’s been a little bit lonely lately. Thought to perhaps pay a small visit.
          Hopefully you’ve been alright, author! Your talent and insight truly inspires, and to that, much I hope you continue your aspirations and endeavours.

Hey! Hru?

"The light hurt my eyes but they adjusted." 
          
          The new book I'm reading is called "Dark." A philosophical fiction (which I've learned is the ACTUAL NAME for the genre I like and I am so happy) written in 2000; the author was 25. (Kenji Jasper.)
          
          The whole thing, currently, as I'm just on the third chapter now, is about darkness. Dark skin, dark lights, dark streets, dark minds. But he adjusts. Or he will. As I also need to do. 
          
          Yesterday in group therapy, we learned one of the tenants of accepting reality through DBT. A common saying, apparently, but I don't remember hearing it before. "The road out of hell is through misery." And another one, "acceptance of reality can lead to sorrow, but great peace usually follows."
          
          The light hurt my eyes, but I adjusted. 

"A map is a two-dimensional representation with arbitrary symbols and incised lines that decide who is to be our enemy and who is to be our friend, 
          
          who deserves our love 
          
          and who deserves our hatred 
          
          and who, our sheer indifference."
          
          -Elif Shafak, The Island of Missing Trees