She perches on the very edge, concrete under her curled toes. No one can touch her now. She takes the fake face off, lets her hair whip. Nobody else can see. And for a little bit, it feels like the trees and mountains of home.
Liberation, a term wielded by the powerful, often masks the systemic oppression within which it operates. True emancipation requires the deconstruction of these imperialistic systems and the fostering of humanistic values and collective justice.
There’s a certain clarity in the desert air, a kind of unveiling. The illusions dissipate and you are left with a raw, unfiltered reality. The desert doesn’t free you; it shows you the cage you’ve been living in.
In Willesden and Kilburn, amongst the clamour and vibrancy, you find it. Not just in open spaces, but in hearts. A Jamaican grandmother, an Indian shopkeeper, their stories woven into the very fabric of the streets.
Oh, but to breathe the air unbound by rooms, where winds and whispers of ancient poets converge, where the soul becomes a lark ascending the great ether. The invisible chains dissolve into delicate tendrils of lavender and longing.
It’s funny how everyone’s obsessed with liberty as if it’s a cereal box prize. Really, when it comes, it’s just another form of being trapped. You are now simply chained to endless possibilities
There was the freedom to be happy, to go where you want. But when it came to the end of the world, people wanted to have the freedom to destroy. Not to be human anymore, but animals, relying on animal instincts for getting what they think they wanted.
People think they have freedom in the United States, but sometimes it just means they feel like they can do whatever they want without considering the other people in their community. So if just being inconsiderate is being free, maybe other countries are better?
She perches on the very edge, concrete under her curled toes. No one can touch her now. She takes the fake face off, lets her hair whip. Nobody else can see. And for a little bit, it feels like the trees and mountains of home.
Every time I travel out of the country, the less I believe that America is the greatest country on earth. Great? Yes. The greatest? Jury’s out.
Liberation, a term wielded by the powerful, often masks the systemic oppression within which it operates. True emancipation requires the deconstruction of these imperialistic systems and the fostering of humanistic values and collective justice.
There’s a certain clarity in the desert air, a kind of unveiling. The illusions dissipate and you are left with a raw, unfiltered reality. The desert doesn’t free you; it shows you the cage you’ve been living in.
In Willesden and Kilburn, amongst the clamour and vibrancy, you find it. Not just in open spaces, but in hearts. A Jamaican grandmother, an Indian shopkeeper, their stories woven into the very fabric of the streets.
Oh, but to breathe the air unbound by rooms, where winds and whispers of ancient poets converge, where the soul becomes a lark ascending the great ether. The invisible chains dissolve into delicate tendrils of lavender and longing.
It’s funny how everyone’s obsessed with liberty as if it’s a cereal box prize. Really, when it comes, it’s just another form of being trapped. You are now simply chained to endless possibilities
There was the freedom to be happy, to go where you want. But when it came to the end of the world, people wanted to have the freedom to destroy. Not to be human anymore, but animals, relying on animal instincts for getting what they think they wanted.
People think they have freedom in the United States, but sometimes it just means they feel like they can do whatever they want without considering the other people in their community. So if just being inconsiderate is being free, maybe other countries are better?