Let’s say your matrilineal line is fairly consistent and everyone has their daughter at 25. So four women in your matrilineal line are born every hundred years. In a thousand years, that’s only 40 women. Like the math is so simple and yet ? You don’t think about it. So in 2000 years, 80 women. So basically, 0 AD started roughly about 80 mothers ago. That’s it.
the one thing thing funnier than this caption is that the only reason they stopped doing it was that the ferret shit in the tube
physics girlboss moment of the day scheduled an interview at the country's largest accelerator nothing can stop me now
I forgot how magical trc is. the first book and the recorder and "is that all?" "that's all there is" and the hope and that feeling of things are starting and we're getting there and just magic. this is why I love it so much
The Gates in June – Fritz Wildhagen / June in the Austrian Tyrol, John MacWhirter / A Month of First Crushes, Schuyler Peck @schuylerpeck / Flaming June, Frederic Leighton / June, Frederick Seidel / Evening, Joseph Brodsky / Romance, Arthur Rimbaud / June, Florence and the Machine / Sonnet XL, Pablo Neruda / Watermelon Sugar, Harry Styles / The Blacksmith, Arthur Rimbaud / Diaries, 1914-1923, Franz Kafka
Saw my first reactor core. I am a changed woman
October
L.M. Montgomery - Anne of Avonlea, Carole Maso - The Art Lover, Louise Gluck - Averno: "October," Leif Enger - Peace Like a River, Van Gogh - Avenue of Poplars in Autumn, Personal Photo, Mary Oliver - Song for Autumn, Dulce María Loynaz – Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems (tr. James O’Conner), A screenshot from Over the Garden Wall, Carol Bishop Hipps - "October," Angela Carter - Burning Your Boats: The Collected Short Stories, Personal Photo, Cy Twombly - Autumn, Rainer Maria Rilke - "Autumn," Alejandra Pizarnik - Extracting the Stone of Madness (Tr. Yvette Siegnert)
“She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars.”
— Neil Gaiman, Stardust (via surqrised)
Here (1989) by Richard mcguire (raw magazine)
Book Binding by PearFleur
Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened every day and arms that were never for anyone else. But just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breath in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.
mae, she/her, 19, physics student & researcher
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