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deaf girl dancingshe cannot hear the music, only see it
and her body sways in waves,riding
the crest of the movement,
she can feel the music in the rhythm
of other people's bodies, jostling and turning,
spinning and swirling, glimmering and burning,
she can read the movement,
tell what the music she cannot hear means
just by the language
of two dozen bodies rocking themselves
into an orchestra of movement.
she cannot hear the music, but
she can feel it, in the way
her body twirls, the way her supple limbs
chase trails of sound that are beyond her grasp,
in the beat of her heart echoing in her ribcage
and her feet, moving to something beyond her
a voice that she will never hear that still calls her.
she responds to silence with her body,
defying limits, refusing to be a stony-eyed silence.
in her life, music is movement, is
joints creaking and hips speaking and
strange breathing, because
she was raised to take the things she could reach
instead of stubbing her toes
by trying to grasp what she couldn't.
cynicism at eleven:forty-two in the morning"what do you think about all this, dad?"
"what? you and this relationship stuff?"
"i'm not the right guy to ask about this stuff."
"what do you mean?"
"you and i are really different. we have totally different perspectives. i'm not like you."
"i mean, yeah, but, how so?"
"i didn't care about this kinda stuff when i was your age. love? relationships? haha, fuck that."
"you know how it is, man. i was like your knucklehead friends. i didn't give a fuck about it. fuck them hoes as far as i was concerned."
"that's just the truth. after that stupid mistake and then that stupid decision, i was angry."
"you think the decision was stupid?"
"if i would've known how it was going to turn out? yeah. i think it was very stupid. but...i guess, in some ways, my parents helped in that way."
"they instilled values in me that made me stay. you see, i didn't have a childhood. i left home at sixteen. i couldn't be there anymore. my dad is a pretty chilled
COMICS are for KIDSQuestion:
What do you think about the way some people view comics, some people tell me it's childish no matter what I tell them I just wanted your view on this
I’ve been told comics are for kids countless times my whole life. I assume all comic reading Americans have heard the same. All you can do is blow it off. Can’t convince anyone by telling them “is not, they are for everyone!” They won’t believe you. I gave bloody gore drenched Invincible trade paperbacks to someone because they said they really wanted to see my work. They said “Cool, I’ll give it to my kids!” I told them it’s not really for young kids, our readership is mainly 20’s-40’s. They looked at me like I’m crazy. The books ended up with the coloring books and toys on the kids table in
You May Say I'm An Artist...
I am haunted in this holiday season by the opening lines of Charles Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities, his novel about a society 250 years ago coming apart in its seemingly irreconcilable divisions. Could it be these lines define where we have come to find ourselves today?
“It was the best of times,
it was the worst of times,
in the age of wisdom,
it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief,
it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light,
it was the season of Darkness,
it was the spring of hope,
it was th
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FairytalesRomeos bleeding but you cant see his blood
Juliets screaming and her tears are causing a flood
Cinderella was running for miles on broken glass
Trying desperately to get away from that thing called her past
The little mermaid did everything she could to get legs
Little did she know she'd only use them to beg
Snow white met seven men all one of a kind
But before she could she had to leave who she was behind
Beauty and the beast were an odd couple at sight
Especially for belle when she woke screaming at night
All Jasmine wanted to do was marry a poor boy
But it seemed no one wanted to see her in such joy
Sleeping beauty let a whole lifetime or two pass away
All because she let a drop of bright blood fall astray
Repunzel had hair that was beautiful and very long
But being stuck in that tower didnt make it strong.
7 tips for the 21 year old me
7 TIPS FOR THE 21-YEAR-OLD ME by Bobby Chiu
When I was a student in college working on my skills as a character designer, I’d had periods where I would sit at my desk working as hard as I could but having little to show for my efforts at the end of the day. I remember sitting there surrounded by blank pieces of paper, trying to come up with an amazing style that nobody had ever seen before. I would do one drawing and not be satisfied, so I would lay a new piece of paper over it, re-draw it with slight changes to features here and there. This would still not be good enough so I would put another piece of paper over my revision, make more minor adjustments trying to perfect this new style I was searching for.
I did this for weeks on end, tweaking and polishing over and over, working hard every day. But in the end, did I come up with a brand new style, something amazing that