bumbleblossoms:

braid your curly hair like fresh challah,
the smell of it filling the air around you
spray perfume of apples and honey on your skin
to prepare for a sweet new day
all around you is history,
and you weave your family into each breath and step
gone is a performance, this is your culture
and each task is done with love

- Miriam Kamens, Jewish woman

(via pomegranateandhoney)

aphroditeinfurs:

my mom: you don’t need to wear that much makeup we are only going to the grocery store no one is looking at u

me: well if you’ve heard of Foucault’s concept of the Panopticon u would realize that as citizens of a capitalist western society we are all surveilled and constantly viewed and judged 247 and even when we are not in a public place, privately we subconsciously monitor our own selves, our appearances, our social interactions, we discipline ourselves and conform this is how the modern day surveillance state works someone is always watching or else u are always constantly painfully aware of ur own self. also can u buy me $50 foundation

(via isitbatman)

adventures-in-theatre:

- You dream of the stage. The spotlight shines on you, the audience holds their breath for you to speak. Your lines, someone mouths to you. You do not know who, you did not see them, you did not hear them. You cannot remember your lines. You look down, a cold sweat forming on your brow. You notice that you are in your underwear. The audience stares. You are not dreaming.

- Backstage, you wait. Standing alone in the darkness of the wing, a black shape shifts past you. You have no proof of them other than the breeze felt by their passing and the shadow you thought you caught in the corner of your eye. Another shape moves past, behind you. Another, in front. Perhaps they aren’t passing you, perhaps they’re coming closer, together. The techies. They move.

- You wait in center stage for the light to come on. It is only dark. It has been dark for as long as you can remember. A low buzzing can be heard, and the stage lights begin to glow, softly, growing brighter, quickly. They are so bright now. You cannot see the audience. You look down, you cannot see your hands. It is so bright. You can no longer feel your body, you are no longer a physical form. 

- You shower after the show, trying to wash off the stage makeup. The water runs flesh color at first, then black. There is so much makeup. Glitter falls from your hair. Why is there glitter? You think. I will never be clean, you whisper into the dark recesses beyond the drain. Eyelashes are falling now, in clumps, whether they are fake or real you do not know. Everything falls, everything is washed away. You become faceless, and yet streaks of waterproof mascara remain. 

- You are only called by your character name, you can not remember the last time you were called by your real name. You can not remember your real name. You are changing.

- Red leather, yellow leather, they chant. The step closer to you, circling you. There is no escape. They chant softly at first, growing louder, walking faster. They break into a jazz run, they are screaming now. You try to chant as well, you try to keep up. You are sweating, yelling. Red leather, yellow leather. Red leather yellow leather. They are coming towards you, waiting for you to fail, to fall. Red yellow, leather pleather, you finally slip. They close in. You have lost.