dear apple, the iPod needs to come back. not for nostalgia. for the parents who want their kids to love music and audiobooks without a browser, social media, and the whole internet attached to it
Sometimes I look at my child & think, oh… you’re the very first person who will ever know the real me without my defenses. And you love me the exact way the earth loves the rain. Instinctively, without keeping score, without asking me to be anything but yours. And that love feels like a magical place I didn’t know I was allowed to rest. And the wildest part is how my children hand me mercy like it’s nothing, like it’s air, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. A child’s love is the first mirror that doesn’t distort you.
I’m saying all of this because this morning when my daughter woke up she told me she has been practicing make a heart with her hands in her dreams. Only so she could say good morning to me with a heart & a kiss. I instantly started to cry. Children love you in ways that make you rethink every cruel thing you’ve ever believed about yourself.
On this Valentine’s Day, it is well to remember, there is no greater labor on earth than love, the endless apprenticeship to it. There is no other work worth doing but this, to love, to fail at loving, and to dare, still, to love again.
saw this on ig and tiktok and i couldn't scroll past. her words are so poetic especially when she said "because even though i don't want to, for the rest of my life, i will remember my ex hated oranges." to be truly loved is to be truly known. this is such a beautiful read, i hope it finds its way to your timeline. 🥹❤️
Weirdly enough, I feel like now’s a better time than ever..
Artists have a responsibility right now. We need the light. We need the music. The beautiful clothes. We need the paintings, the movies, the novels. We need the art.
a close friend’s birthday is today & i asked the people who love him to text me an object that represents their friendship
the outcome: a painting that is incomprehensible to most but means everything to him
my mom’s always said the way you know love is real—any kind of love—is that it makes you softer. with yourself. with others. if it’s making you more irritable, more cold, more bitter, it's not love
my mom once told me “accountability will always feel like an attack when you are not ready to acknowledge how your behavior harms others” and that shit is real.
my mom is now arranging and photographing still lifes. doesn't post them anywhere, just sends them to me on whatsapp.
i didn't even know this was a hobby you could have