The person I reblogged this from deserves to be happy.
Like most reservation kids we wound up with our grandparents. We were lucky. Most Indian children are placed in foster homes. This happens even in some cases where parents or grandparents are willing and able to take care of them, but where their social workers say their homes are substandard, or where there are outhouses instead of flush toilets, or where the family is simply “Too poor.” A flush toilet to a white social worker is more important than a good grandmother.
The painter does not paint on an empty canvas, and neither does the writer write on a blank page; but the page or canvas is already so covered with preexisting, preestablished clichés that it is necessary to erase, to clean, to flatten, even to shred, so as to let in a breath of air from the chaos that brings us the vision.
|—||Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, What is Philosophy? (via heteroglossia)|
It’s weird to feel like you miss someone you’re not even sure you know.
|—||David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest (via rainysundaysandcoffee)|
Girls are not machines that you put kindness coins into until sex falls out.
The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said, and never explained
|—||Anonymous (via modestys)|
A reservoir that has turned blood-red as a result of mining pollution in Sháoguān, China.