As soon as finals are over I’m having a justice league marathon.
Starting of the winter with a bang.
Oh just running over stop signs. No biggie.
I was listening to “Baby it’s cold outside” and thought about newt excitedly singing the typical male part while hermann begrudgingly says the typical woman’s part.
speaking of white boys
they murdered this shit
28.04.2008 praia da Mata, Costa de Caparica
This is a poem that I will never forget.
Because it was followed by one of the heaviest moments I’ve ever experienced as a photographer.
The girl in the grey is named Madeline, and before this poem, I had never met her.
The Brave New Voices youth poetry slam is a standing gig i’ve had for three years now, the participants both old and new have begun to treat me as a member of their family, yet somehow, I had never met Madeline.
As the incredible poets above lay this poem on the audience, I stood just offstage, waiting to photograph them as they left the mic, i was down on my knee, camera in hand, ready for them to pass me.
As the poem ended, the crowd roared and the poets left the stage, but as Madeline passed me, before i could hit the shutter, her knees gave out from under her, and she fell into me, sobbing and shivering uncontrollably.Photographers are taught not to be active participants. To remain objective, to document, to distance yourself so the story you tell with your lens remains unclouded and true. But the young woman in my arms was not someone I was willing to distance myself from, as her hands twisted the cotton of my shirt, i held her against me, my camera caught between us, I sat there with her, and her two team mates, as the scores being read onstage were drowned out by the roaring of a theater full of poets just like the three of them.
She stayed in my arms for the next two poems, the piece she had just shared had drained her of every ounce of energy, a testament to the kind of power that these young poets have in their pieces.It was not until later that night that I learned her name, I had held this girl without question as she shivered into my shoulder, and then returned her, spent, but smiling to her teammates once she had the strength to stand again.Madeline is just one of an army of incredible young poets that i’ve grown to love and admire more than I ever imagined I could.Their strength, their talent, and their willingness to share their stories on the stage leave me breathless year after year.I only hope the images they allow me, do their incredible character justice.I only hope that in that audience, there are still 1000 Madeline’s I am yet to meet.
I will not keep my mouth shut. A bitch knows her voice. Knows how to howl with a wolf pack in her throat. A bitch is honest. A bitch doesn’t follow the rules; demands to know who wrote them. Rules are weak. Rules are prey.
I am alpha female; I am fur on fire. I am roaring tornado combusting misogynist mountains to dust. Crushed bones and gutted patriarchy carcass. We bleed to survive, you bleed to keep up.
First Look: Guillermo Del Toro’s ‘Pinocchio’ | Collider
Looking good, the more stop-motion films out there the better (though some more hand-drawn films would also be awesome as well…). But still I really just love the overall style of this.
You all have no idea how excited this makes me. I am not too clear why I am so excited myself.
But I am.