15.07 UTC+3
15.07 UTC+3
You wake up in the air.
You wake up on the last row.
You wake up with an ebook in your hand.
In general, you feel this trip like a distant memory. Separated from you. Even though its hard to recall the conditions so good if you have never experienced them. Wide aisles. Two-courses lunch. Indian half of the plane. Transit. Knees don't abut. Food on specific plates. Metall silverware.
3 hours 15 minutes left. 76% of the phone charge. The stewardess puts a glass of coxe on the table. Not a "cup", but a "glass". We took off two-minutes-to-hour ago.
Look back on the page of Fight Club just to see that the guy's flat exploded during the lunch. Book's in Englsih. As if I'm not fed up with the language after my school year. As if I'm not sick of it. Nervous nausea starts to lighten for the first time in four days.
You wake up on the ground.
You wake up in your bad.
You wake up with knot of hysteria in your stomach
Dad's watching second volume of Deadpool one seat aside from me. Outside it's -52.5° Celsius. I haven't learnt all the Fahrenheit, feet, pounds and value added for goods, which, depending on the state, ranges from 10 to 15 per cent of the price indicated on the price tag (excluding essential products and food in general). Mother's watching a something with Kate Blanchett. After all everything I've heard involuntarily about this actress I got sick after one mention of her.
I haven't slept well since the beginning of the exam week. It's 16 nights. I wake up every threeto four hours and can't calm myself for a long time. Critically insufficient for an organism in stress. Two hours fifty-eight minutes left till the first landing. "The duration of the flight is 4 hours 10 minutes". The Transatlantic twice longer. Girl in front of me is watching "Frozen 2" on Turkish with English subtitles. I worry about Elsa.
You wake up in a liminal space with no time or geotag.
It's 5 am in LA. Means that it's past eight at Godmother's. Good morning, you sleeping beauty! Screen in front of me shows that right now, 15.25 UTC+3, Mecca is on the left if one needs to address. Sore eyes -- adding the on-board-one, there were about five hours if sleep.
You fall asleep in the air.
You fall asleep on the last row.
You fall asleep with an ebook in your hand.
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B E R L I N & N A I R O B I
ethics is important, Nairobi, but aesthetics as well.
Do you want to talk about Jayvik? Let's talk about how Victor is the perfect metaphor for being a woman in science. Because you work your way up to a high position with blood, sweat, and fraud, and finally get the chance to do what you love, and the prospect of actually doing something significant and changing the world looms before you...
Only for your conventionally attractive, smiling male partner to steal your moment of glory, publish your shared draft as his own, and suddenly become the "face of progress." Only one will go down in history, by the way, because in the final drawings on Caitlin's computer, we see "project created by Jace Tallis"
Victor is the female scientist rage
I said what I said, and I'm not stuttering
RIP Kurt Cobain you'd love Twenty One Pilots 2009 album lyrics
Yeah, so, you know what? How about some Shakespeare, but it's modern!au, everyone serves in the army, Beatrice is between gender-questioning and trans, and Benedick is just a wet pathetic bisexual
you know when they kiss your palm as you hold their face? i want that so badly
blegh I hate that fanbases have simplified relationships in ‘shipping’ because I can’t find a lot of good analysis of aglaya and artemy’s relationship that isn’t “do you ship it?”
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Powers that Be what are you doing making your dolls kiss
I'm not getting any younger over here
yeah, life is cool, but where is my secret lover, who shows up at my house in the middle of the night with several books to read together and analyze, under the sound of raindrops pattering on the window?
there is something so darkly comical about tumblr potentially outliving twitter
tumblr, which is held together with duct tape and madness, run by three raccoons in blood stained Yahoo! hats and a handful of crabs, its only discernible source of income the sale of shoelaces from an inside joke so inside no one knows the original source anymore and fake blue checkmarks... that website still lives on
truly the cockroach of social media and I love it for that
