- (I am working a morning shift at a cafe. We are serving breakfast. A little boy and his mother enter the cafe.)
- Me: “So, what will it be?”
- Child: “I WISH TO DEVOUR THE UNBORN.”
- (There is a sudden silence and everyone turns to look. The mother looks very embarrassed.)
- Mother: “Eggs… he would like some eggs…”
Everything we feared about communism - that we would lose our houses and savings and be forced to labor eternally for meager wages with no voice in the system - has come true under capitalism.
really sick of men mocking women for the things they’ve been taught they should do in order to be socially acceptable
I went on a date last night and then you texted and asked, again, whether I would come there. Start our days with coffee, end with you making dinner. Forever. I feel myself tug towards yes and then I remember why it will always be no with you and I.
There are people in your life who are going to love you for all of the wrong reasons. They will love you for the best part of your face, the best part of you naked, the best mood on your best day, the best story you ever wrote, the best outfit you ever wore.
They are going to miss the scar on the underside of your nose from the time your older brothers dared you to run across a pile of logs. They won’t know that you fell on a hidden nail just as you completed the challenge. They’ll miss the scar on your finger, too from the time you were seven and closed a swiss army knife on it. They won’t understand that these are two of only a handful of things you can remember about your childhood. They’ll notice that you have great tits, but they’ll miss that your thumb tucks into their palm when you’re walking together and that your eyes have darker circles when a migraine is coming. They won’t know you get migraines. They won’t ask where the story you wrote came from, so they’ll never know that it was true. They’ll love it because it feels real to them. They’ll miss knowing the sweatshirt full of holes that they criticized you for wearing was your dads. You might tell them some of these things along the way, but they will remember the best things instead.
They will love your good moods, your energy, your sense of humor, but miss that you never turn to them, but rather to a shower or a pillow or the back of your throat to shed tears. They won’t ever consider you strong.
When the parts that aren’t your best come out, some people will shield their eyes as if you have just forced them to look directly into the sun for hours until their irises burn. They’ll silently make you promise to never show them that again. Those things are not to be shown. Be at your best so I can love you. I would love you more if only you never show me those things.
And you do not marry those people. You do not sit and sleepily drink coffee with those people. You leave those people and you remind yourself that they missed the better parts of you.
I want to be like water. I want to slip through fingers, but hold up a ship.
Viva was a magazine for women that celebrated female sexuality and was published by Penthouse from 1973 to 1980. Varying from highly romanticised, emmanuelle-esque editorials tailored to women’s fantasies to in depth articles examining the female orgasm and erotic literature, the magazine excelled in delivering the desires of women to a wider public. For a short time Anna Wintour was the fashion editor who often roped in Helmut Newton to photograph for them.