Hasta que él me dijo que estaba bien llorar, nunca había llorado tan a gusto al lado de alguien.
We got Tumblr’s attention with our past peaceful protest campaigns
Protect the Creators
Bring Back Reply
Protest against hate speech
Bring Back Arch Atlas
Maybe it is time we use our beloved Tumblr to protest this sexist policy that marks female nipples as porn. Tumblr is being extreme in what its decision and policies, and is using a useless algorithm that sees Rothko paintings (see @dailyrothko) and flowers and all kinds of non-porn images as porn.
So, on Monday, 12-17-18, we should not post anything on Tumblr, except the above photo, which is available here. NOTE: You can also add these to your avatar to let anyone who visits your site know about this.
As this post suggests, if we have a queue with images, we should add this one to 12-17-18. As part of our protest, we should not do anything on Tumblr for the whole day: no dashboard, no posts, no comments, chat, replies. We should also, as recommended by @jtmportland, we should also completely log out to show a physical drop in traffic/use.
Also, please think about putting @staff & @support on any and all reblogs of this and any on any posts about this, since this will send them a direct notification of each and every post about this. We need to flood their dashboards so they see we are upset.
Also, please use the staff and support tags.
Again, here is the link to the above sign: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1CWHndyT6EUu1ZKzS_CCUZ4yEJlS6vhcI
Como el napalm, mi amor, combustión rápida y larga durabilidad...
You know what I like about art? That it embodies a person's view of the world they have around, even when that world isn't necessarily beautiful. It's like you get to see through someone's eyes, through their experiences and likes or dislikes. And sometimes you get to see how a person has decided to live, despite what true life is really like.
I pray to gods unknown
I tell them my truest name and form
I speak them my mind, my body
How my hands are worn
I spit them the blood I once bore
I hear the green talking back to me
The answer of the forest
Only for my eyes to see
Unyielding voices of the dark
Searching for my aching bones
My chest open like a wound
Legs unmoving, hands closed
I hear my name in the rustling leaves
An ancient tongue I will never speak
Unforgiving deities reclaim my life
I am to be one with the nature
That's their last command
-V/2021
‘Quiéreme y me querré. Quiérete y te querré. Querámonos y nos tendremos.’ Con esa frase me quedé después de haber estado contigo, y eso que en toda la tarde no hicimos nada especial. Fuimos a la playa, me contaste lo que habías hecho aquella semana, yo te expliqué alguna que otra anécdota sobre mi clase de francés... Fuimos a ver el atardecer en la punta más alejada del espigón, y cogidos de la mano, sentados bien juntos en uno de los escollos, canturreabas las canciones que ibas poniendo mientras el sol pasaba a iluminar otra parte de la Tierra. Pocas veces con tan poco he sentido tanto. Me dio la sensación de que contigo vivo en un bucle permanente de una canción de Extremoduro. Nunca le había tenido tanto aprecio a la repetición. Y nunca la repetición me había parecido tan variable.