reasons why i love living in boston


*awkwardly tries to be fandom and aesthetic at the same time*

Title: Afternoon
Artist: Youth Lagoon
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Afternoon // Youth Lagoon


Untitled | by Peter Methven | Facebook.

I’m feeling a little under the weather today, but Morocco is very soon, and I am so excited to experience everything that been stuck to pages for the past two months. I will learn how to correctly speak another dialect of Arabic, except much better this time. It is all going to come alive very soon, no longer bound to a classroom, but breathing around me and inside of me, too. Like when I first arrived in Amman, and I heard the call to prayer whilst waking up from a long nap, and it hit me - this is what I have been dreaming of, waiting for, for the past four years of my studies. My advanced Arabic textbook is arriving tomorrow, and my mother and I will begin and hopefully complete packing in the evening. That leaves Thursday and Friday free to walk around D.C. and say goodbye to this sense of familiarity for a while. An ocean does not seem so wide when you’ve travelled across it before, expanding your horizons to the other side of the Earth. When I feel anxious, I need remember that. 

"The truth is, I want to feel my pain. I want to feel the sadness and the near-burning nostalgia of leaving a place and a people I love, because it deserves it. Everything beautiful that we experience in life, when it suffers or comes to an end, is going to be filled with this kind of aching sorrow. But that is a good thing, because it means that it had significance in your life, that it cannot be easily dismissed like so many other things you let roll off your back. To be sad when the end comes is to pay homage to everything that was great, to all that it gave you, to who you are because of it. And yes, it is “weak” to cry and write letters and talk about your sadness. It is “weak” to rest your head on someone’s chest and welcome being consoled. It is “weak” to focus, at least temporarily, on the pain you feel.

But it is also wonderful. It is a moment in which you feel alive, human, and fully connected to the things that you touch in life. There are few moments where we lose or change or move on from something great, and those moments do make us weak. To be strong and silent in the face of them — to deny that they have touched you and will leave a great absence in your life — is to dismiss its importance. You may find yourself needing the support of friends and family, to be reassured and have your hand held. You may need to be reminded of what is good, and that the pain will subside. You may need to lean on someone. And that’s okay."
— Chelsea Fagan, It’s Okay To Be Weak Sometimes 


Palestinians — young and old — celebrate an indefinite ceasefire in Gaza. 26 August 2014.


Wien’14 (by remaininglight)


chinatown, nyc
thomas cadrin, 2014

"We take home and language for granted: they become nature and their underlying assumptions recede into dogma and orthodoxy. The exile knows that in a secular and contingent world. Homes are always provisional. Borders and barriers, which enclose us within rhe safety of familiar territory, can also become prisons, and are often defended beyond reason or necessity. Exiles cross borders, break barriers of thought and experience."
— Edward Said 
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