sadie kelly

7 possums in a trench coat attempting to get into the local grocery store

[helmet girl @sbodrojan]

Rayne is the actual voice of her generation and basically all arguments to the contrary are jealous cope. Young girls these days aren’t emulaying Didion or Sontag - they’re literally emulating *her.* I am in awe of my genius friend basically every day

[rayne fisher-quann @raynefq]

I love nirvanna the band bc its thesis is basically that sisyphus would be happy if he had a dumb friend

[ирис @saltwatermp3]

I can't look at sparrows for too long because I was one a couple of lives ago and the memories give me a nosebleed and the desire to eat a handful of white millet

[Dr. Ezzideen @ezzingaza]

I came back today. I thought I had known despair before, but what I saw today is beyond despair.
It is not grief, nor horror, nor pain. It is something colder, a stillness where even God seems to have withdrawn His hand.

The sky was impossibly blue. The kind of blue that mocks you, that makes you wonder whether beauty itself is a crime.
I walked through streets that no longer exist, streets that were my childhood.
They are now a wilderness of stone, wire, and dust.

A man stood on a heap, a neighbor, I think.
He pointed and said, “It’s here.”
I asked him how far.
He looked down.
And I understood: my house was beneath his feet.

I lifted my phone, as if the machine could recognize what I could not. The screen glowed; there was nothing to see. The earth had swallowed the distances. Even the smell of home was gone. It was as if the thread connecting me to life itself had been cut.

I dug with my hands. The dust burned. My palms bled.
My mother had told me: “Search for anything we can save.” And so I obeyed her like a son obeys the last voice that still believes there is meaning in obedience.

From a house that once cost my father one hundred and twenty thousand dollars, a lifetime of labor, of hope, of decency, I found two things:
a knife, and a pillow.

Two relics of civilization. One for necessity, one for illusion.
That is what remains of man.

I sat in the ruins, the blue of my shirt turned gray with ash, and I thought:
this is the end not of a city, but of meaning itself.

I thought of my parents, their hands, their faith in honest work.
How will they bear this? How will any man bear seeing his father’s roof turned into dust by a stranger’s hands, hands that will never know the names of those they destroyed?

But what tears me apart more than ruin is silence. No one speaks to us.
No one tells us where to go, who will rebuild, or who is responsible.
The politicians talk of victories, the generals of strategy, the world of peace and progress.
But none of them live here among the ashes. None of them stand where I stand, sifting through their own dead.

And those who claim to represent us, where are they? Where is the money they collected in our name, the promises they made before the cameras, the slogans they wrote while we buried our children?
Who among them will come to this ruin and say: Forgive us, we failed you?
Not one.

They sit in offices with clean shirts, counting our corpses as figures on paper. They say “reconstruction,” “aid,” “negotiations,” as though the vocabulary of power could fill the emptiness of a mother’s bed.

I tell you the truth: there is no crime greater than indifference.
The murderer at least acknowledges the victim.
But those who look away, they kill the soul itself.

I brushed the dust from my shirt, though I knew it was useless.
I wanted to see if there was still color left in the world.
There wasn’t.
The blue had become the color of mourning.

I looked at my hands. They were shaking, not from fear, but from the unbearable realization that we have become expendable to the world.
Our suffering is entertainment, our death a policy, our endurance a statistic.

I wept then, openly, shamelessly.
I, who once believed in the dignity of suffering, now see that dignity itself has been annihilated.
There is nothing noble in being forgotten.

If you are reading this, do not admire the style or the language.
Lower your head, and weep.
Because this dust, this silence, this cry, is what remains of us.

[Ken Silva @JD_Cashless]

NYT ran an amazing this morning about how the 1st Trump admin. sent SEAL Team 6 into North Korea to plant listening devices
The mission was a disaster. The SEALs encountered a boat within minutes and opened fire--killing everyone on board
It turns out, it was just a fishing boat

[rayne fisher-quann @raynefq]

put your phone down for a second in this town and you could miss everything

[rayne fisher-quann @raynefq]

wrote abt poser ethics

[Writers Against the War on Gaza @wawog_now]

Hossam in his own words.

[sadie kelly @holygrindrail]

a woman can say ‘celibacy’ and a man will hear ‘hella pussy’

[rayne fisher-quann @raynefq]

extremely beautiful, made me cry from frustration & anger , must read

https://t.co/cwpFDdihNA

[New town every hour (ret.) @TownsUsa]

Mold on celery and I ate it after noticing

[Mai El-Sadany @maitelsadany]

Absolutely heartshattering.

May the memory of 25 year old Aaron Bushnell be a blessing. May his sacrifice be a call to action for those with the ability to do something and a haunting reminder for those who refuse to change course.

[sadie kelly @holygrindrail]

@raynefq sorry as an addendum, it’s important you have one man on the inside who you have planted to convince the other guys that this is a cool and normal activity do bros and we should like, totally stay

[rayne fisher-quann @raynefq]

Me and my best friend had the idea to do this 4 years ago and decided the key is that you don’t tell them what’s happening you just invite 10 people to your house at the same time and see what happens. If you’re selling it like this you’ve already ceded power

[sadie kelly @holygrindrail]

@raynefq this rocked

[sadie kelly @holygrindrail]

@raynefq I know this one.

[sadie kelly @holygrindrail]

@raynefq hell yes brother

[sadie kelly @holygrindrail]

@raynefq mwah

[sadie kelly @holygrindrail]

@raynefq A bold and narrative-challenging use of the word breakfast