A Paradise Of Expressions..

Where strangers are family.

I was the one who hated myself even more


Glory Be

I guess the phrase to use for such a post is ‘delightfully harsh.’ Open to other suggestions! Please like this post! It’s (at the moment) delightfully harsh!

Calliope's Lyre

I can’t blame you, if I’m in love with the taste of being wasted. The utterly balanced delicate bite of the bitterness inside, with the rising bile, being shattered and glorious just comes naturally- it’s my style, I suppose, to be gasping, and blue, and asphyxiating on words I dare not tell you. Claw at my eyes and feel my throat wrench, as I force myself to swallow, as my stomach clenches. Rug burn, heartburn, cigarette burns, consterning, do the stars leave holes behind in the sky where they’re burning? Or maybe, that’s the price you have to pay, to be a thing of beauty, you have to blaze away.

And there you have it. That’s what we are. You are beauty, I am the destruction, and we are just as beautiful together, at a distance, as the stars.


Hi guys. I seem to return only to apologize, but…

View original post 98 more words


Falling leaves,

The end of  summer.


Nippy winds,

Chilly yet refreshing to the face.


Outside with a bicycle,

and a lonely road.


Riding the wind,

while it paints my cheek red.


Falling leaves,

they lie on the road.


While I leave, they stay

colouring the ground.


When I’ll come back, they’ll be gone.

All things return home someday.



A Dream Between Two Rivers — Literary Hub

Brasil I first saw her where the two rivers meet, brown and black, pressing their long, watery bodies together over mud and sand. The others were snoring in their slatted seats or gazing with glazed eyes at the earth-colored heads of the capybara poking through the great, green-bladed shore. Her body seemed like a log…

via A Dream Between Two Rivers — Literary Hub

Earn it, or.

Let this one go, Mom. What will be will be. (And it’ll be OK.) — gendermom

A worried mother of a three-year-old sent me an email recently, asking for my advice. She was trying to answer the very same question that plagued me when my child was the same age and saying the same things: Is it OK to let such a young child transition to another gender? Or to even […]

via Let this one go, Mom. What will be will be. (And it’ll be OK.) — gendermom

On (Re)naming an Adopted Child — REVISIONS OF GRANDEUR

The boys have been talking about what their names would have been had they been girls. Gray would have been Ana (these were pre-Frozen times, people). Reed would have been Fern. And Miles would have been Brooke. Funny how, even though they are boys, those other names still seem to suit them. Or maybe mother dreams […]

via On (Re)naming an Adopted Child — REVISIONS OF GRANDEUR

Getting Lost in the Magic of Maps: Three Stories — Discover

Real or fictional, maps don’t just represent space — they also make storytelling possible.

via Getting Lost in the Magic of Maps: Three Stories — Discover

September 19

Al pastor with big hunks of piña, a raucous song coming from a band of young drunks, is it Roma, Condesa? These streets run around and around like a race track. Cerveza at altitude. Joven, cinco má…

Source: September 19

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑