Brought A Poem To The Gun Fight

Recs;)

A list of my favorite poetic films: The Passion of Joan of Arc (Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1928) The Man Who Sleeps (Bernard Queysanne, 1974) Letter Never Sent (Mikhail Kalatozov, 1960) The Turin Horse (Bela Tarr, 2011) Satantango (Bela Tarr, 1994) Werckmeister Harmonies (Bela Tarr, 2000) Mirror (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1975) Nostalgia (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1983) The Holy Mountain (1973, Alejandro Jodorowsky) Three Colors: Blue (Krzystof Kieslowski, 1993) The Double Life of Veronique (Krzystof Kieslowski, 1991) The Ten Commandments (Krzysztof Kieślowski, 1989) Pictures of the Old World (Dušan Hanák, 1972) The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (Robert Wiene, 1920) Persona (Ingmar Bergman, 1966) Koridorius (Sharunas Barthas, 1995) Taste of Cherry (Abbas Kiarostami, 1997) The Color of Pomegranates (Sergei Parajanov, 1969) The Spirit of the Beehive (Victor Erice, 1973) The Gospel According to Matthew (Pier Paolo Pasolini, 1964) Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring (Kim Ki-duk, 2003) Woman in the Dunes (Hiroshi Teshigahara, 1964) Meshes of the Afternoon (Maya Deren, 1943) Still Life (Zhangke Jia, 2006) The Exterminating Angel (Luis Bunuel, 1962) Koyaanisqatsi (Godfrey Reggio, 1982) Wings of Desire (Wim Wenders, 1987) Raise the Red Lantern (Yimou Zhang, 1991) Kes (Ken Loach, 1969) The Human Condition (Masaki Kobayashi, 1959-1961) Diary of a Country Priest (Robert Bresson, 1951) Land of Silence and Darkness (Werner Herzog, 1971) Aguirre: The Wrath of God (Werner Herzog, 1972) Dreams (Akira Kurosawa, 1990) Embrace of the Serpent (Ciro Guerra, 2015) Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors (Sergei Parajanov, 1964) La Jetée (Chris Marker, 1962) Sans Soleil (Chris Marker, 1983) Last Year at Marienbad (Alain Resnais, 1961) Marketa Lazarová (Frantisek Vlácil, 1967) Chungking Express (Wong Kar-wai, 1994) Eternity and a Day (Theodoros Angelopoulos, 1998) Ulysses’ Gaze (Theodoros Angelopoulos, 1995) Eclipse (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1962) Red Desert (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1964)

IF YOU DON'T AGREE WITH THIS,FIGHT ME!!!

fucking hate thar when you go to uni you have to actually do and turn in work like some kind of seventh grader. you should be able to just listen to the lecture & vibe

Been thinking about this since forever!!

things i do not understand about fics involving or by allosexual/alloromantic people (an incomplete list by an aroace looking for validation):

sexual attraction, obviously. like I know logically that it's a thing but I'm still half-convinced it's made up. I get aesthetic attraction, I can think of people as beautiful, but the urge to have sex is — obviously — not there.

specifically, attraction to sweat? like characters in fics will get sweaty and then people find that attractive? how??? I can logic out wanting to have sex in most cases, but this one makes no sense to me

hating someone & being attracted to them at the same time. It's why I don't like a lot of enemies-to-lovers — if you hate each other, what is the appeal of sex???

reader x character fics. I'm fine reading about romance happening to other people, but why would you want to read about romance happening to YOURSELF? isn't it weird? or is that just the aromanticism in me—

in some contexts I can conceptually understand wanting to have sex, in other ones I can't. Like... sometimes it just seems more realistic to cuddle?

finding anger attractive... ig this is related to the enemies-to-lovers stuff, but even in fics that AREN'T enemies to lovers, arguments turn into sex. why? what is appealing about being angry?

possibly tbc if I encouter anything more, feel free to add on

If you’ve ever wondered why Egyptian mummies are so rare, it’s because wealthy Europeans ate them. Between the 12th and 17th centuries, while pilfering the continent for goods, resources, artifacts, and Africans themselves, colonizers also looted and exoticized Egyptian tombs. Mummies were ground up into medicines and consumed by the elite, believed to be a remedy for various ailments and an infusion of life-energy from the spirits of the dead. When Egyptian mummies became scarce after hundreds of years of eating them, corpses from other parts of North Africa and Guanche mummies from the Canary Islands were instead exported and sold to European apothecaries. But even as they engaged in cannibalism for their own selfish indulgences, one of the primary ways that Europeans demonized Indigenous peoples was by naming them all as savages and cannibals.

Colonizers have not limited their use of racial cannibalism to the medicinal. They have also used it punitively and vindictively. During the genocidal King Leopold II’s occupation of the Congo (1885-1908), Belgians massacred more than 10 million Africans. Most were forced to work for the Anglo-Belgian India Rubber Company, and were severely punished if they did not meet their rubber quota. In Don’t Call Me Lady: The Journey of Lady Alice Seeley Harris, there is a black and white photo of a Congolese man named Nsala, seated at the edge of a porch. His eyes are fixed on the severed hand and foot of his 5 year-old daughter, Boali. The Belgian militia had cut them from her body before killing her and her mother. To further exact their cruelty, they ate Nsala’s wife and child. They did this because he had failed to meet his rubber quota for the day.

The thing about white supremacy is that it does not merely subsist through the consumption of the Other; it whitewashes by de-emphasizing and lessening these misdeeds and others. History looks very different when white people are not the protagonists in its retelling. A significant instance: the accepted and well-known white feminist narrative about the Salem Witch Trials of the 1600s is that it was a hysteria driven by rampant misogyny and a pointed persecution of white women, the survival of which they harken to as evidence of their historical resilience. I prefer to think of it, more accurately, as a community of racist, religiously-intolerant enslavers and colonizers of stolen Native land cannibalizing itself—and I wish it had finished its meal instead of begetting centuries of white people who would gorge on the lives and cultures of Black and Indigenous folks.

As the Donner Party traveled across the U.S. as part of a violent westward expansion in 1847, a small group that broke off from the larger party became stranded without food in a grueling wintery hellscape. So, they conspired to murder their two Native American guides, Salvador and Luis, for food. The two men ran away, but were found a few days later and were swiftly eaten, the only members of the party to be hunted and murdered before they were cannibalized. Salvador and Luis are rarely spoken of when the story is told to relay the suffering and survival of the people who ate them. In the version of the story that tells the truth about colonialism and the violence it requires, the Donner Party are the monsters, not the damsels.

The Transatlantic Slave Trade was a monstrosity of boundless proportions. Its enormity altered the world in a multitude of ways and none were/are more changed by it than Africans and their descendants. Many Africans believed—or, rather, knew—that white people were cannibals and feared that they would be taken away and consumed, like the others who had disappeared and not returned once white people began to arrive on African shores. Fear of white cannibalism on the ships carrying Africans to other lands was indeed palpable, and often led to attempted mutiny and escape or suicide by jumping into the waters below.

—  Sherronda J. Brown, THE HISTORY OF CONSUMPTION AND THE CANNIBALISTIC NATURE OF WHITENESS

I wanna move in here✨️

POV: you now live with the village witch

#I love vintage

Antique Perfume Bottles. x

Dropping the Mask

Wang So’s final moment in the story with him REVEALING HIS SCAR really does complete his journey in many, poignant ways - from covering his scar to revealing it, from self-loathing to acceptance. The last moment when the audience sees Wang So’s scar for the one last time is a direct parallel to the time when we and Hae Soo saw it for the first time - back then he was ashamed of it, back then he tried to cover it and to hide it - it made him immensely self-conscious and vulnerable. Back then, he was looking at Hae Soo and this time his piercing gaze once again belongs to HS even if she isn’t there. It’s as if So was able to look through the space and time separating them and find her in the future, just like he is promising her that he will one day.

This time we get the same extreme close-up of his face - but he isn’t self-conscious nor vulnerable anymore. I’ve read some comments that Wang So couldn’t love himself the way he was until the very end, but that’s not true - HE IS ABLE TO ACCEPT HIMSELF JUST THE WAY HE IS, BE IT HIS SCAR, HIS FEELINGS, HIS FAILURES, HIS ACTIONS. And even without HS by his side he’s able to become of one the greatest kings in the Korean history, even with all the terrible things that happened to him, even with all his scars.

head not empty, many abstract uncommunicatable thoughts

…he was always sad.