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A Masterclass In Processing Communal Grief In The Face Of Unresolved Tragedy. Discover Our Stories of Grenfell over at >> . . .

The most disgraceful tragedy in the history  was the cruelest assassination of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, founding architect of Bangladesh, father of the nation, the magnificent leader of the liberation war. 🇧🇩

The most disgraceful tragedy in the history was the cruelest assassination of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, founding architect of Bangladesh, father of the nation, the magnificent leader of the liberation war.

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When Tristan’s head is clipped, you can see an adorable wrinkle in his skunk streak when he perks his ears.

It’s an absolute tradegy that we have to choose between perky streak wrankle and goth punk skunk-hawk. The universe cannot be forgiven for making this an either-or situation.

either a ray of sunshine, after suddenly peeping out from behind a cloud, had again hidden behind a rain cloud, and everything had darkened again before my eyes; or perhaps the whole vista of my future had flashed before me so bleakly and sadly, and i saw myself just as i am now exactly fifteen years later, only older, in the same room, just as lonely, with the same matryona, who hasn’t grown any wiser in all those years.
—  fyodor dostoyevsky // white nights (1848)

[…] Cuando me dijeron que habrían de amputarme la pierna no me afectó como todos creían, NO, yo ya era una mujer incompleta cuando le perdí, otra vez, por enésima vez quizás y aún así sobreviví[…]
No pretendo causarte lástima, a ti ni a nadie, tampoco quiero que te sientas culpable de nada, te escribo para decirte que te libero de mí, vamos, te “amputo” de mí, sé feliz y no me busques jamás[…]
Se despide quien le ama con vehemente locura,
Su Frida.


[…] When they told me that they would amputate my leg, it did not affect me as everyone believed, NO, I was already an incomplete woman when I lost you, again, for the umpteenth time perhaps and I still survived […]
I do not wish to cause you pity, I do not want you to feel guilty about anything, I write to tell you that I release you from me, come on, you “amputee” me, be happy and do not look for me ever […]
The one who loves you with vehement madness, dismisses you.
Your Frida.


To Diego

Frida Kahlo  1907-1954


Graphic - Nahum B. Zenil  (B.1947)

Welcome to the Transition Funeral Parlor

They always say that you can’t die if you’ve already dead, but there are far more ways to die than physically. Being a zombie hasn’t always been so bad: no need to sleep, don’t need to eat, don’t need to drink water. The only real risk is misunderstandings and accidental loss of body parts. On day 1, everyone was terrified, until enough people developed immunity to it and people started to accept that there was a chance that their loved ones might come back.

Of course, it can be hard for the families to see a family member decay slowly, but those precious extra years more than make up for the money spent on air fresheners. The only bad thing is when someone dies who wasn’t infected. I’ve seen it happen far too many times as a coroner; a family didn’t get vaccinated and someone dies permanently. They’re typically left with mixed feelings as they see neighbors enjoying time with a grandmother who looks as faded as her curtains and they know that they lost time.

The hardest is when someone loses a kid before they can legally get the vaccine at age 18. The government set an age limit as undeveloped brains tended to revert to a more feral demeanor and cause problems.

I work as an undertaker, both for permanent death and the Transition. Dying is pretty traumatic so having a psychology degree is useful in the undertaker business. Most just need time to orient themselves and then a couple adjustment classes before returning to normal life. People who’ve been murdered get to go to the police under protection and crime has greatly reduced.

The worst story as an undertaker took place in my first year after Transition. It had been a pretty calm Saturday, a few people woke up from Transition and their families came to pick them up when they were oriented. A quiet knock at the door came as a welcome distraction from the paperwork involved in permanent death. The opening of the dark oaken door of the funeral parlor revealed a tiny dead body, male, probably only six years old. This wasn’t too uncommon as some families couldn’t stand being around a body that wouldn’t come back. I knelt down and observed that he had some bruising around the neck and on his arms. A quiet flare of anger stirred in my still heart: someone had abused and possibly killed this kid. I scooped him up and carried him down the stairs at the back of the parlor and into the body storage. I laid him carefully in a cold tray for preservation and put a John Doe tag on him before heading upstairs to file an abandoned murder victim report. After about 5 hours, some rattling caught my attention. It wasn’t unusual to hear a little rattling as the ground cooled and the building settled but this sounded like a metal trashcan falling down the stairs. I quickly glanced at the occupants sheet but the only Transitions in storage were permanent.

“Shit, the kid.” I grabbed my emergency pistol from my desk and snuck over to the staircase, locking all the doors to prevent escape. I couldn’t believe how shitty this kid had been treated: illegal vaccination, abuse, murder, god knows what else. I descended the stairs as the rattling got even louder. The cold tray was almost popping out of the wall at this point so I stood next to it and pressed the lock release. In a instant, the tray popped open and wild bloodshot eyes met mine before a tiny firm blasted towards me, arms out. We were on the ground in a second, all elbows and biting teeth. Somehow, this kid felt like the one time I mistakenly tried to pet a raccoon. I struggled to push his mouth away from my head as his hands gripped my windless throat. My pointer finger snapped off as I grabbed him and pushed him to the ground, pressing the barrel against his temple. A blood vessel popped in his left eye as I painted the floor with his brains: the permanent kill-shot. His little limbs stopped their struggle as his right eye made a last contact with mine and I could see his last bit of consciousness fade away. It was even worse to pick up that little body and clean up the blood on the floor than to have found the body in the first place.

With or without, before or during or after, whoever or whatever you’re mourning, which is valid,

You’re still you

You’re still great

You’re still loved

If you think you’re not loved, I love you

You’re still loved

You’re still a person

You’re still fabulous

You are not less of a person

Life goes on

So cry and get mad and shout and curse, if you want. That’s okay. But when you’re done letting it out, I hope you know how wonderful you still are.


~Surrounded by Treasures and Sadness~

Yvaine has spent the last week, since she was sick, telling Tristan that she won’t play… now she’s trying to play and he doesn’t believe her. My poor precious baby girl, she’s so disappointed. I’m tussling with her, but it’s just not the same.

I hope Tris figures it back out soon. He is a bouncy child, I am optimistic. But look at her tragic, rejected expression! How can anyone cope with all this sorrow?

Today I melted my new favourite lipstick and I’ve never been so devastated about a colour of lipstick in my life.

So it’s now living in the fridge to come back to life !!

Note to self…don’t drop your lipstick in the car in a heatwave 😭💄💋


I am not crying, I am not crying, I am not crying……damn you Chaplin **sobs uncontrollably** #citylights #chaplin #charliechaplin #instafilm #instagood #nostalgic #tradegy #lovely #beautifulpeople #blackandwhite #blackandwhitefilm #silentfilm

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Death and Threats and just a lil talk

Big title with a lot of emotion. Okay hey guys, i don’t really know why i’m writing this but within the last couple days a bus got crashed into and fifteen boys died, the rest severely injured. three of them were from my city. personally i have never experienced death but this event has severely impacted my town. please, please hug your loved ones every time you see them, appreciate the little things because some people don’t have that anymore. their lives have been torn apart. please love and care and value everybody around you. along with that, my school had a lockdown due to a bomb threat. almost three hours we sat there, and so many people were so distraught about the men that died on friday. anything can happen. i did not expect going to school today and sitting on the floor next to a bunch of my peers shaking. ANYTHING is possible, so if ANYBODY is reading this please love eachother. there’s a website for donations for the men that died and for funeral costs, which I can post if anybody wants it. love eachother. love your best life. please. you may not get the chance tomorrow.

Be strong, Stay strong..

}{Post 3:}{ What is normal? If you look up the definition of normal it reads “conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected”. What is it like to be normal? I don’t think I’ll ever experience it. I’m not sure if I ever want to. The scars that I wear, are a constant reminder of the pain that I wear daily. What does it take to fit in todays societies standards? Are you good enough? I’ve already accepted my place in this world, have you? But why settle for “Good Enough” when you can go so much further. Shoot for the moon, that way, if you miss you’ll land amongst the stars. Sometimes I want to forget about my past, run far away from all this misery, sometimes I want to be numb, not feel a thing, but if we don’t go through the struggle then we will never know what is worth living for. The other day, I gotten a message from a friend, he wanted to commit suicide, he tried and failed. Now, I’ve always felt suicidal but to hear it from another, kind of makes you look at things differently. I want him to live, I want him to keep fighting. I told him to hold on, to stay strong that nothing is worth dying over. I told him so much, but why didn’t I ever tell myself that? How is it easier for you to tell someone to step off the edge but hard as hell to not move from the edge yourself. Why put someone’s value above yours? I’ve noticed that in life, there will be an endless amount of questions but so little answers. I’m broken but not defeated. If you’re reading this, you’re not defeated either. If you’re breathing, that means you still have fight left, hold on to that fight. Don’t let it burn out. Keep pushing yourself, even if it hurts so bad that you cry, that you scream out in pain. All my life, I put the blame on everyone other then myself on how I’m feeling. But really, it’s my own fault that I put myself through so much trauma. I look on the negatives rather then the positives. It’s one thing I still need to work on. My name is Noa, the meaning to the name is possessive love. What is love? If it only keeps getting taken away. I’ve been abused, by the one person that had said they loved and cared about me, the one person that gave me life. Try to picture your mother dearest holding you down as her boyfriend raped you, putting her hand over your mouth because her boyfriend didn’t want to hear your screams. Then after it happened, you just crawl into bed, crying silently into the night and hoping that when you wake up, it was all just a nightmare. Life sucks, yes. Life is hard, and challenging. No matter what you’ve gone through, no matter how close you’ve came to give up, you are strong. People will continue to test you, to try to break you. In the moment where you start to feel like they are right about you, should be the moment you rise, get back up on your feet and fight harder, even if it hurts. You don’t get to prove to anyone your worth, only yourself. You are your own judge. The moment you stop thinking the world owes you something, the moment you stop depending on others approval, is the moment you will feel the chains lift from you, the moment you will feel freed from all the agony, the stress. Who really has the say in what your life is worth? What makes others better then you? Forget about being normal, forget about fitting in. Focus on accepting yourself, focus on conquering the world. Some say there is nothing that motivates them anymore, but I’m sure there is at least something that is keeping them fighting. Maybe it’s a child? Maybe it’s vengeance, maybe it’s pain, maybe its religion. What ever it may be, hold on to it. I believe in you. When you’re lost in this world with me, not sure where you belong, I’m there with you buddy. You’re not alone. Stay strong. <3

The Tragedy of Macbeth - Macbeth [Theme: The Power of Corruption]