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Wednesday’s Kiss ~ Good Morning, Love ~ 1920s Biederer Postcards


A penguin of the week with a little gift for you each day~ Start off the week with some penguin positivity! :D


A penguin of the week with a little gift for you each day~ Start off the week with some penguin positivity! :D



>inb4 pseudo art major intullectuals with shitty art degrees and $50,000 debt try to feel important and give me their 2 cents

Fuck modern art, seriously.


Justina Diaz went into Susana San Juan’s bedroom and set the rosemary on a small shelf. The closed curtains blocked out the light, so that she saw only shadows in the darkness; she merely guessed at what she was seeing. She supposed that Susan San Juan was asleep; she wished that she did nothing but sleep, and as she was sleeping now, Justina was content. But then she heard a sigh that seemed to come from a far corner of the darkened room.

"Justina!" someone called.

She looked around. She couldn’t see anyone but felt a hand on her shoulder and a breath against her ear. A secretive voice said, “Go away, Justina. Bundle up your things, and leave. We don’t need you anymore.”

"She needs me," she replied, standing straighter. "She’s sick, she needs me."

"Not anymore, Justina. I will stay here and take care of her."

"Is that you, don Bartolome?" But she did not wait for the answer. She screamed a scream that reached the ears of men and women returning from the fields, a cry that caused them to say "That sounded like someone screaming, but it can’t be human."

The rain deadens sounds. It can be heard when all other sound is stilled, flinging its icy crops, spinning the thread of life.

"What’s the matter, Justina? Why did you scream?" Susana San Juan asked.

"I didn’t scream, Susana. You must have been dreaming."

"I’ve told you, I never dream. You have no consideration. I scarcely slept a wink. You didn’t put the cat out last night, and it kept me awake."

"It slept with me, between my legs. It got wet, and I felt sorry for it and let it stay in my bed, but it didn’t make any noise."

"No, it didn’t make any noise. But it spent the night like a circus cat, leaping from my feet to my head, and meowing softly as if it were hungry."

"I fed it well, and it never left my bed all night. You’ve been dreaming lies again, Susana.

"I tell you, it kept startling me all night with its leaping about. Your cat may be very affectionate, but I don’t want it around when I’m sleeping."

"You’re seeing things, Susana. That’s what it is. When Pedro Páramo comes, I’m going to tell him that I can’t put up with you any longer. I’ll tell him I’m leaving. There are plenty of nice people who will give me work. Not all of them are crazy like you, or enjoy humiliating a person the way you do. Tomorrow morning I’m leaving; I’ll take my cat and leave you in peace."

"You won’t leave, you perverse and wicked Justina. You’re not going anywhere, because you never find anyone who loves you the way I do."

"No, I won’t leave, Susana. I won’t leave. You know I will take care of you. Even though you make me swear I won’t, I will always take care of you."

She had cared for Susana from the day she was born. She had held her in her arms. She had taught her to walk. To take those first steps seemed eternal. She had watched her lips and eyes grown sweet as sugar candy. “Mint candy is blue. Yellow and blue. Green and blue. Stirred with spearmint and wintergreen.” She nibbled at her chubby legs. She entertained her by offering her a breast to nurse that had no milk, that was only a toy. “Play with this,” she told Susana. “Play with your own little toy.” She could have hugged her to pieces.

Outside the rain falling on the banana leaves and water in the puddles sounded like it was boiling.

The sheets were cold and damp. The drainpipes gurgled and foamed, weary of laboring day and night, day and night. Water kept pouring down, streaming in diluvial burbling.

 - Juan Rulfo, Pedro Páramo (1955)

De nuevo con “Terapia de Choque”