ܘܲܠܲܘ
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ܘܲܠܲܘ
@wa.llaw.cc
57 followers 170 following 49 posts
Drawn to silly doodles in very old books.
Bad takes on old texts, translations, and art.
aussi du contenu en français 偶爾會轉/發華文帖文
Growing follows slowly to ensure consistent attention
(Re)posting poetry and art by others, (always credited) rarely mine
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𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟
𝑇𝑜 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑚
𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒
𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦
𝐻𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑑
𝐵𝑒𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑜𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒
𝑆𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔
𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒

𝙹𝚘𝚎𝚢 𝙻𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝙺𝚊-𝚢𝚒𝚗 梁嘉賢
𝚃𝚛. 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚞 𝚃𝚜𝚣-𝚔𝚒𝚗
#smallpoemsunday
𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘣𝘪(fine line)-style painting depicting a bowl-cut young girl covered in mosquito bites, elbows resting on a white-green plaid table cloth, mosquitos in the air, flowers, with Cantonese inscription in 𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨, an imitation Song-dynasty typeface, and classically poetic structure. 𝗗𝗮𝗶𝘀𝘆 𝗔𝘀𝗸𝘀, 2012 by 𝗝𝗼𝗲𝘆 𝗟𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗞𝗮-𝘆𝗶𝗻 梁嘉賢 春天來不來 我還開不開 狂蜂愛不愛 蜜糖採不採 是否香味改 引錯蚊子來 害我癢難耐 花容也難再 𝗝𝗼𝗲𝘆 𝗟𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗞𝗮-𝘆𝗶𝗻 梁嘉賢 b. 1976, active United States 𝗗𝗮𝗶𝘀𝘆 𝗔𝘀𝗸𝘀, 2012 Ink and color on paper Joey Leung Ka-yin contemporizes the 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘣𝘪 (fine line) painting technique by using it to depict imagined narratives grounded in daily Hong Kong life. 𝘋𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘺 𝘈𝘴𝘬𝘴 is part of her 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 series, in which Leung focuses on the emotion of indecision. The inexpressive young girls with luscious black hair in these works were partially inspired by Tang-dynasty portraits of court ladies, who were pictured as enigmatic, melancholic, and detached from reality. Leung's humorous Cantonese text merges satirical language with classical poetic structure, reading like a single-panel comic strip with an inscription that mimics 𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨, an imitation Song-dynasty typeface. Translation of inscription (rhyming when spoken in Cantonese): Will spring come this year To bloom or not to bloom Will the bees madly love me Will they come and gather honey Has my scent been changed Bewitching mosquitos to come So unbearable is the itchy feeling I cannot hold my elegance anymore Translation by Raphael Chau Tsz-kin
July 6, 2025 at 11:33 PM
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Picked up 𝘉𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘭 (BGE) on a whim and surprised to come across this immensely fruitful progenitor to countless quotes and memes in pop culture.
#booksky #philosophysky
Nietzsche's 𝘉𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘭 (trans. R.J. Hollingdale) Pub. Penguin Classics #146 He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you.
June 22, 2025 at 11:37 PM
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Liu Xiaobo (刘晓波; pinyin: Liú Xiǎobō; 28 December 1955 – 13 July 2017) was a Chinese literary critic, human rights activist, philosopher & Nobel Peace Prize laureate
From "June Fourth, a Tomb" in (posthumous) anthology: www.graywolfpress.org/books/june-f...
#humanrights #poem #poetry #universalrights
𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡, 𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐛 (partial quote) 𝐵𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑦'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝐼𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒'𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑠, 𝑖𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒-𝑡𝑖𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡'𝑠 𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑦        - 𝙻𝚒𝚞 𝚇𝚒𝚊𝚘𝚋𝚘            𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜. 𝙹𝚎𝚏𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚢 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚐
June 4, 2025 at 5:36 PM
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My friend is at a crossroads in his career, so I shared with him a handful of stanzas from 𝘉𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯 by Irish poet Brendan Kennelly. (1936-2021)
#smallpoemsunday #poem #poetry
Some flowers and succulents I saw on the way to the post Begin by Brendan Kennelly Though we live in a world that dreams of ending that always seems about to give in, Something that will not acknowledge conclusion insists that we forever begin. Begin again to the summoning birds, to the sight of the light at the window, begin to roar of morning traffic all along Pembroke Road. Every beginning is a promise born in light and dying in dark determination and exaltation of springtime, flowering the way to work. The front of the card I'm sending to a friend In this scene, a bird sits on a tree branch. An assortment of butterflies, plants and blossoms can be seen
May 18, 2025 at 9:22 PM
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Incidentally, that's how, I'd imagine, a lot of first-timers figured out the solution: trial and error.
The Shadow Man and the Prince run towards each other in a dungeon
May 11, 2025 at 7:31 PM
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“ 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚜. .. [𝙸𝚝] 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜.. , 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎-𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛. ”
       - 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚢𝚗 𝙳𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚜
#antiwar #imagine #MayFourth #poem #progress #violence #WomensRights
MAY 4ᵗʰ - THE POEM 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢—𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚄.𝚂. 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚊 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚏𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚑𝚒𝚘 𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝙺𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝. 𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙺𝚛𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚜' 𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚁𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚖 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛... 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚐𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚃͟𝚒͟𝚖͟𝚎͟ 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 "𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚢" 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, "𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜, 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜, 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜, 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚒𝚝?"  𝙹𝚎𝚏𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚢 𝙼𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎-𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎  𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚕𝚜 𝙸 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚌𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑... 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎.              𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎  𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗.  𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚔𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝙰 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚠 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎.           𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎.  𝚃𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝙴𝚕 𝚂𝚊𝚕𝚟𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚍.  𝙽𝚞𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚋 𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚝 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚠𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜. 𝙸𝚗 𝙰𝚔𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚍   𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚎   𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚕𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎.  𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝙸 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚍-𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝, 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚖-𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢.  𝚆𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚍.  𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜, "𝙳𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗 𝚃.𝚅.?  𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚋?"  𝚈𝚎𝚜.  𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.  𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍...                𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎.  𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚜.  𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚗 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚎.  𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝟷𝟽𝟾𝟿 𝚘𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟾, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝟷𝟿𝟽𝟻 𝚘𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟺. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎-𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛.  𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝙸𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚞𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚋𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛-𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚝.  𝙸𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚠𝚊𝚢.  𝙸𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 ... (last 2 lines on 4th image) ... 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜.  𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.             𝚁𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗, 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙵𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝚃𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚝'𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗.  𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍...𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍.  𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝙻𝚊𝚔𝚎.  𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎-𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚖𝚞𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙺𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚌𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚏𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜. 𝙰𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚣𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜.  𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍.  𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚗 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜... 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗.
May 5, 2025 at 12:30 AM
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It's #StarWars day weekend! Re-visit the prequel trilogy in an alternate, goof-free timeline
...with Blackened Mantle, a B&W, heavily-edited amalgamation of all 3 movies, featuring a moderately revised story (new lines) dubbed professionally in Japanese.
Arguably, the best way to enjoy the prequels!
Poster for Blackened Mantle, riffing off of a Chinese (HK) poster for #ANewHope Digital art; Vader (pre-disfigurement) and Obi-Wan in a lightsaber lock
May 3, 2025 at 7:17 PM
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If you see this, post your getaway vehicle
A phone booth with signage that says 'City' across the top
May 3, 2025 at 3:31 PM
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Dwight slamming his landline receiver on a makeshift pencil fence that Jim has put up
April 30, 2025 at 8:23 PM
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... 𝑌𝑒𝑎ℎ, 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐹𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠' 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑤𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑜𝑛:
𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛'.

         - 𝚉𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝙱𝚛𝚢𝚊𝚗
      𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 (𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗆) 𝐼'𝑑 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑤𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑠 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑐 𝑚𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛' 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑏𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑃𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐 101 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐸𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝐵𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟; 𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ, 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒. 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠; 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑝𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑢𝑛ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑑, 𝑢𝑛𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑦, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝐼 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝐻𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑙𝑜𝑦𝑎𝑙 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝐼 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝐼 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤, 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑛𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐹𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠' 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑤𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑜𝑛: 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛'. ... (continued in post body)
April 28, 2025 at 8:09 PM