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#storyofalife band practice gone awry!

I'd once met a woman in her mid-forties. Her face was smeared with a devastation that had made home there; the back of her hands had veins popping out and her skin had a lot of wrinkles. She said to me, “I've wasted my entire life.” She said it in a way I'd heard no human speak before. It was the emptiness of a past that had slipped from her hands, snatching away her future too. She told me about how she'd loved a man who took everything from her without even asking for it. He reshaped her past into nothingness in the span of what seemed like a wasted lifetime. She told me about his actions as if they weren't manipulations. She told me about his love as if it wasn't violence. She told me about his hands as if they had not made her bleed. She told me about his care as if she had never been bruised by him. It seemed baffling how she spoke about the toxicity of a lover without an ounce of rage or hurt, without wanting to change it all. I looked at her. She sat there with eyes that were neither sad nor happy. She looked like a shell of a person that had come into being with her feelings slowly fading as her cries must have too.
There are people who don't understand why she didn't leave him, why she was alone that day, telling me all these things with a hollowed voice as if it had screamed to escape too many times. Why did she let her life get wasted? Why didn't she blame him? I can't make sense of it too.

They talk about Van Gogh's toxic yellow paint; hers was him. They call Van Gogh an artist. But they call her a madwoman who wasted her life away.

Poison🌿 #nd #ann #storyofalife

"Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with the scars..." This is me. Taking life one day at a time... #fmspad #wwwcpad #thisisme #recovery #addiction #mentalhealth #mentalillness #onedayatatime #scarsthattellstories #inked #storyofalife @blackchapeltattoogallery @silverhopejewellery

Es war einmal eine Larve in einem Ei, als sie geschlüpft ist war sie wahnsinnig hungrig und aß ganz viele Blattläuse. Als die kleine Raupe satt war, produzierte sie einen Kokon in dem sie sich für eine Weile aufhielt.... aus ihr wurde ein wunderschöner Marienkäfer 🐞

The ByrdBath Daily: Abuse is never okay. Fly free from the pain.

Portrait 3 of 3. Portrait of my Grandma.
These hands. These withered hands are the hands of my grandmother. Hands of strength. Hands of hard work. Hands of love. I've never known her hands to be smooth. They've always been dry and rough. Her hugs were always unique because of this. She's cooked countless meals for our family with these hands. She's provided with these hands. She's held books with these hands and did her best to read bedtime stories to my sister and I with her grade school education. She's picked cotton with these hands. Helped her father farm with these hands. Her life's story and my memories of her revolve around these hands. I wanted to capture this specific shot of her hands because of this; the meaning and memories they hold.

2 of 3. Portrait of my Grandma.
This portrait holds such significance. The cotton wreath reminds me of stories she would tell about picking cotton as a little girl. The furniture in the background is from the time she was married to my pawpaw who passed in 2010. The items within that furniture is pictures of her family which she's lived and worked for her whole life, and several chicken figurines and oil lamps from what use to be her large collections of each. There's also a hand drawn flower inside there I drew for her when I was in grade school. She's kept all my art I've given to her and always showed it off when she could. The larger photo is actually a framed puzzle of several she put together years back when she was recovering from a surgery. It was a special time of bonding for us as we helped her out them together. There's a portrait of her mother with a photo of herself laying on top reminding me of generations of strong women. The portrait of her mother also reminds me of the regret my granny has had since her mother's passing that she didn't take the chance to go visit her while she was sick. My granny and I used to talk and see each other nearly everyday. She's the one who taught me to cook and drive and have the strong stubborn will to keep going. I don't get to have that as much anymore now that I'm living three hours away and she has gotten where she can't see her phone very well. I never want to regret not taking the chance to go see her though so I've made sure to hurry up there when she's gone into the hospital and make sure to spend quality time with her as much as I can. I pray I'm there holding her hand when it's her time to go. And then there's the mirror. This mirror holds her and all these significant memories I have. When I look in a mirror, I see my grandma in parts of me. I have her red hair and freckles. I look to her as my role model of strength. I have her relentless pursuit of relationship with those I love. I have her name woven into the creation of mine. I have her stubbornness that is a blessing and curse sometimes. I am terrified of losing her. I don't want my life to be void of her.

I took a series of portraits of my grandmother over the weekend while I visited her. She's declined in health tremendously in the last couple of years and now is living in an assisted living center. It breaks my heart to see this strong woman vulnerable and weak physically. Her strength, spunk, and stubbornness is still there and I am thankful for that. These three images are photos I've been aiming to capture for some time now. 1 of 3. Portrait of my Grandma.

Only selfie pose I know how to do 🐊

We worked with an amazing family last week who chose to #personalise their dad's cardboard #coffin with scenes from his #unique life.
#inspiring #choices #meaningful #storyofalife #anythingispossible

The touch of a hand can leave eternal marks #touch #memories #storyofalife

Yesterday’s thrift store find would have been excellent addition to my Russian Revolution Centennial post. Two (of the six) volumes of Konstantin Paustovsky published by Harvill Press. Not Soviet editions but will equally distinct cover designs. Paustovsky was one of those who ‘seen it all’ from the twilight of the Russian empire to Khrushchev. Volume two ends with the February revolution. He was also said to be nominated for the Nobel Prize at the same time with Mikhail Sholokhov.
#igreads #bookstagram #bookfinds #thriftstorefinds #konstantinpaustovsky #storyofalife #autobiography #slowapproachofthunder #harvillpress #russianliterature #sovietauthor #sovietliterature #ussr #sovietunion #nikitakhrushchev #mikhailsholokhov #russianrevolution #nobelprizeinliterature

There are a few things we can see, and a few choices we can make. We pray for our happiness and dream. We remind us that we are no more than our limits. And then comes a day we realise, we stand nowhere, to our dreams. We are bruised, battered and broken. Our aspirations: shattered in front of our dreams. We are lost, destroyed and have nowhere to go.
And on those days, we ask ourselves, for ourselves, what's next? Is there anything else we're still to take? Any other day still to go? We hear no answer, apart from the sound of the river, kissing the sand, the breeze of the air, flowing the water, and the view of the sky meeting the earth.
Maybe that's how it was all meant to be.
#InnerThoughts #Nature #Peace #StoryofALife #WhereLiesNoAnswer #Yesterday #Tomorrow #Mahanadi #Breeze #QuestionsUnanswered #FloorFromYourFeet
"Who cares if one more light goes out, in a sky of a million stars? Well, I do."

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