"summer came like cinnamon, so sweet"
A bit of what I been seeing and a bit of what of I been reading, in between.
“Intimacy in general terms is a song of spirit inviting two people to come and share their spirit together. It is a song that no one can resist. We hear it while awake or sleeping, in community or alone. We cannot ignore it.”
— Sobonfu Some, “The Spirit of Intimacy Ancient Teachings In The Ways Of Relationships.” p. 12
“The undoing of the plot begins with her drifting from the course, with an errant path, with getting lost to the world. The undoing begins with an escape to the woods, with perilous freedom, with petit maroonage, with wading in the water. It does not begin with proclamations or constitutions ordecrees or appeals or a seat at the table or a stake in the game. The undoing of the plot doesnot start on bended knee, it does not begin with ballots or bullets, or with an address to thecourt, or with a petition, or with the demand for redress, or with the slogan: no justice, nopeace. It begins with the earth under her feet. It begins with all of them gathered at the river and ready to strike, with all of them assembled in the squatter city, with all of them getting ready to be free in the clearing. They don’t say what they know: all things will be changed.”
— Saidiya Hartman, “The Plot of Her Undoing.”
But in the work of Laundering Black Rage, the city is also the laundromat of the State. The roads and interstates for the circulation of capital are invisible to us as it appears as to us as boulevards and highways. In their role as circulators of produced capital, they cleanse the money of extracted labor, stolen lands, and wars of occupation and then turn that money into capital, labor into commodities, and propaganda into culture. The shelter and other dwellings of house workers appear to us as homes and lofts. Those homes maintain that which was taken from the indigenous of the land and the laborer work in centers of conversion, turning that which was dirty into something that is pristine. The working population of the city,“man”, is the laundry for the State. Thus, a city is a population center because people have been forced and coerced into its location.
— Too Black and Rasul A Mowatt, “Laundering Black Rage: The Washing of Black Death, People, Property, and Profits."
“The stupidest question my parents ever put to me was ‘Oh, why couldn’t you just be gay?’ I said, ‘Just be gay? How boring is that? I don’t want to just be anything!” My question is this: Why do people want to be accepted for who they are by the government that has created this system more than accepted by themselves?”
— Miss Major and Toshio Meronek, “Miss Major Speaks: Conversations with a Black Trans Revolutionary.” p. 83
“I love you because I love this this version of me. The one that woke up when we met.”
— Unknown
“What an age! Every one is dying, everything is dying, and the earth is dying also, eaten up by the sun and the wind. I don’t know where I get the courage to keep on living in the midst of these ruins. Let us love each other to the end.”
— George Sand, “Letter to Gustave Flaubert, 27th June 1870”