WHITE WOMAN: i hate street harassment!!! men touch me without consent!!!
WHITE WOMAN: *pats Black Woman’s hair like she’s a pet*

In Which The Ancient History I Learn Is Not My Own

dinnseanchas:

The linen map 
hung from the wall. 
The linen was shiny 
and cracked in places. 
The cracks were darkened by grime. 
It was fastened to the classroom wall with 
a wooden batten on 
a triangle of knotted cotton.

We have no oracles, 
no rocks or olive trees, 
no sacred path to the temple 
and no priestesses- 
the teacher’s voice had a London accent. 
This was London. 
This was England. 1952. 
It was Ancient History class.

Ireland was far away. 
And farther away every year. 
I was nearly an English child.
I could list the English kings.
I could place the famous battles.
I was learning to recognize God’s grace in history.

The colours 
were faded out 
so the red of Empire 
the stain of absolute possession 
the mark once made from Kashmir
to the oast-barns of the Kent
coast south of us 
was underwater coral.

And the waters 
of the Irish Sea, 
their shallow weave 
and cross-grained blue-green, 
had drained away 
to the pale gaze 
of a doll’s china eyes: 
a stare without recognition or memory.

She put the tip 
of the wooden 
pointer on the map.
She tapped over ridges and dried- 
out rivers and cities buried in 
the sea and sea-scapes which 
had once been land. 
And came to a stop.

The Roman Empire 
was the greatest
Empire ever known. 
(Until our time of course.) 
Remember this, children. 
In those days, 
the Delphic Oracle was reckoned 
to be the exact centre of the earth.

Suddenly 
I wanted 
to stand in front of it. 
I wanted to trace over 
and over the weave of 
my own country and read out 
names I was next to forgetting. 
Wicklow. Kilruddery. Dublin

Eavan Boland

(via thehoneyinthelion)

13 hours ago
6 notes
trillaryclinton:

dash-ketchum:

yet—another—url:

baital:

patrickthomson:

this is your periodic reminder that old-timey medicines did not fuck around

One Night of ceasing to give a single fuck about anything, let alone a cough.
NyQuil’s got nothing on this shit.

Omg and it was a compound? What other ingredients did you have to mix it with?! THAT wasn’t enough?!

that One Night will be your LAST night fuck around wit this shit dawg

^^^

trillaryclinton:

dash-ketchum:

yet—another—url:

baital:

patrickthomson:

this is your periodic reminder that old-timey medicines did not fuck around

One Night of ceasing to give a single fuck about anything, let alone a cough.

NyQuil’s got nothing on this shit.

Omg and it was a compound? What other ingredients did you have to mix it with?! THAT wasn’t enough?!

that One Night will be your LAST night fuck around wit this shit dawg

^^^

(via marchesamedici)

1 day ago
70,586 notes

rainedragon:

Pieces from the Excentrique Fall 2014 collection

(Source: excentrique.biz, via ladies-and-gentle-women)

1 day ago
39 notes

bennyslegs:

I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS

(via taikova)

2 days ago
8,080 notes
elvendork:

Rooftops, copper plate etching | 2013

elvendork:

Rooftops, copper plate etching | 2013

(via elvendork)

14 hours ago
65 notes
Like wine, Dionysus is double: most terrible yet infinitely sweet. His presence, which is a bewildering intrusion of otherness into the human world, may take two forms, be manifested in two different ways. On the one hand it may bring blessed union with the god, in the heart of nature, with every constraint lifted - an escape from the limitations of the everyday world and oneself. That is the experience extolled in the parodos: purity, holiness, joy, sweet felicity. On the other hand, it may precipitate one into chaos in the confusion of a bloodthirsty, murderous madness in which the ‘same’ and the ‘other’ merge and one mistakes one’s nearest and dearest, one’s own child, one’s second self for a wild beast that one tears apart with one’s bare hands: ghastly impurity, inexpiable crime, misfortune without end, without relief.

Jamie Moriarty in 1.23 "The Woman"

(Source: harveyscepter, via and-not-to-yield)

2 days ago
1,012 notes