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"Harlem"
Poem by Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
THank you! (Also...I MOVED 2000 MILES)
Thank you for the birthday wishes, everyone. Thirty-seven trips around the sun now. I will be getting to all of your comments as soon as I can to thank you and also to catch up with everyone.
So, something a little wild happened after my last journal when I said I was back. I moved. I moved two thousand miles to the opposite coast of the continent. I live in New York now in the Finger Lakes region. It is my paradise. I'm in the middle of nowhere and sit on acres upon acres of forest. Internet is...temperamental at best and nonexistent at most. I'm almost entirely off grid and everything here in the woods is trying to kill me. Including the p
because I can't stop
So I'm back and I have a serious question. Do you consider screenshot photography to be an art? I ask because in what little time I have off, I frequently devote to killing dragons, taking down super mutants, farming 16-bit vegetables and what not. Annnnndddddddd screencapping the heck out of it because, apparently, I'm incapable of even relaxing without taking photographs of it.
It's become yet another passion of mine and I'm distressed to find that I can't find a suitable category for something like it here.
No, it doesn't have F-stops or ISOs or the like, but I've still had to learn to use a distinct set of tools to work within the confi
10828
10828 messages? Hahahahahahaha. No. I'm not going through all of them. I love you guys, but no. No can do. That said, how are all of you?!
I'm BACCCKKKKKK...you poor poor souls.
So I took a year off. First the surgery, then I got slammed with a lot of work, became burnt out, then took a turn for the worst in a battle with severe major depressive disorder, fought against my own brain for the entirety of the fall (the closest by far I've ever come to taking my own life), had another surgery, returned to work and today have returned to dA.
I know. I've missed out on more than I can ever truly catch up on. Like a lot of people I tend to shut doors and wall myself in when I'm not doing well and I need strangers to save my life because I won't listen to the wisdom of my closest confidantes. Maybe it was because deviantART
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Great selection!
Forbidden us to build new dreams as long as governments being a dream theif!
We say we are not dreaming and they are enough stupid to believe that!
They can tie our hands, can close our eyes. But can imprison our thoughts?
They can tie our hands, can close our eyes. But can imprison our thoughts?
Dreams was allowed to lie fallow. They will leap from the soil to breathe and grow with new spring.
Like a plane, free and majestic!
Wrondoings, whom rest in the shadow of our majestic dignity will be dry and mixed with the soil very soon!
Sorry for my English