decorumoffire:

you bit the delicate skin
under my throat and I was
like a drowning man gasping
for his last breath but I didn’t
know if I was a siren of distress
or if I was begging you for more;

your breath is a slow fire catching on
the tinder of my thighs and it is the
aching heat before the scorching
of your tongue, and the oxygen from
my lungs is lost, forming wordless
syllables, quiet asphyxiation;

maybe you are silently killing me,
smothering me with your kisses and
paralyzing me with the poison of
your touch, but maybe I am to blame
for wanting you so much, for
chasing fire, kissing flame.

I think im in love with putting makeup on via natural light. #nofilter #selfiesarefun

But the biggest surprise of “Aschenputtel” [Grimm brothers version of the Cinderella story] is that it’s not about landing the prince. It is about the girl herself: her strength, her perseverance, her cleverness. It is a story, really, about her evolution from child to woman.

It is Cinderella herself who plants the magic tree and requests the finery for the ball (which is celebrated over the course of three days). She walks to the party each night rather than traveling by enchanted coach. She leaves not because she has some arbitrarily imposed curfew but because she has danced enough. Then she escapes both the pursuing prince and her own father by hiding in a dovecote or nimbly scaling a tree.

When the prince finally comes a-calling, shoe in hand, Cinderella greets him in her sooty rags. He may be looking for the beauty with the dainty foot, but, as Joan Gould, the author of Spinning Straw into Gold, notes, she demands that he witness the woman she has been, dirt and all, not just the one she will become. So while he provides the occasion for her transformation, he is not the one responsible for it— she can only do that for herself.

—from Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches from the Front Lines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture  by Peggy Orenstein. (via feminishblog)

giantpandaphotos:

© Max Ruckman.

this is mind blowing to think that each frame was drawn out by someone with pure talent