Taylor Marie by Ben Reha

Little mouth peak



Taylor Marie by Ben Reha

Little mouth peak


I’m not an artist, but I have more than a few friends who are, so I thought this might be a good thing to post. 



"oh man I’m a young white man with a 1700 ft condo and a good job and tons of money and I just hate my life so much time to destroy society"  - fight club

#yes a young white man with#spoiler alert#WITH SCHITZOPHRENJA AMD LITERALLY NOTNING IN THAT MOVIE IS REAL#I will defend chuck until I die

fight club is absolutely not about mental illness at all unless we’re talking about comically inaccurate soap opera or comic book depictions of mental illness

don’t do this to yourself




why is it that villains and not protagonists are always the ones breaking gender roles hmmmm 

it’s called queercoding and it’s intentional and basically brainwashes kids into having negative associations with those traits



My most memorable spiritual and cultural awakening in Bahia occurred when I visited one of the Candomble’ temples (terreiros) where I had scheduled an interview with a member of a carnivalesque group. After six months in Brazil, my Portuguese was at a level where I needed to show off how “Brazilianized” I was and I proceeded to greet my host in Portuguese, state my name, where I came from (Nigeria), and my purpose in interviewing. To my surprise, this initiated worshipper of the Gods, spoke in Yoruba and not in Portuguese, although he understood me in Portuguese. First, he said: “Omo-Osun, se wa mu omi dudu?” This question literally translates as “Son of Osun, would you like a cup of black water?” Now, while I understood that he was offering me something to drink, I could not understand “Omi dudu” because it simply translates as “black water.” For me, as a Yoruba, “black water” may simply mean muddy water or stagnant water that has tuned into mud after rainfall, but this still did not make sense because such water is not drinkable.

I started to perspire and for a moment, I was faced with a dilemma: here is a Brazilian trying to speak my language, and I, the native Yoruba speaker, trying to understand him without speaking Portuguese. When my host realized that he was not communicating, he went into his house and brought what he was offering me in a flask. Then, he poured it into a cup, and behold, it was coffee! I could not help but stare in amazement at the ability of this Yoruba-Afro-Brazilian to negotiate the meaning of coffee in my own language, an effort I would rather not make, but to use the “corrupted” English loan-word that I will then render as “Kofi” [kawfee]. This anglo influence is very common in Modern Yoruba, especially in Nigeria. Yet, the first part of my interviewer’s statement is even more interesting. Instead of calling me “son of Nigeria,” he chose to locate where I came from with the name of a God, Osun. By calling me “Omo-Osun” or “OMO-Oxun” in Brazil, he was simply calling me a Yoruba or Nigerian by associating me with one of the Gods from that region. I must confess my experience with this worshipper left a lasting impression on me, but he did not stop at that. He went on to give me permission to see the African Gods that are kept in their chambers. As he was about to open the first door, I quickly asked him to stop, for this is not a venture for the uninitiated. He looked at me curiously and obviously surprised that a Yoruba would not like to pay homage to his Gods. What he did not understand was the fact that colonialism had stripped us of those traditions and beliefs.

While I believe in my Yoruba Gods and their role as intermediaries of the Supreme Being, my upbringing would not allow me to enter sacred places without the necessary initiation rites. Such a defiance of tradition has its repercussions, at least the way we have been raised and socialized, and I was not going to break that tradition. Of course, my host did not understand my hesitation as an authentic Yoruba. I was revering his Gods by not wanting to defy or disrespect them. I did not want to show an ignorance of the necessary greetings required of me when I entered such a sacred territories.



friendly reminder that spirit animals are a sacred concept in a variety of religions worldwide (many of them being aboriginal religions that are at risk of destruction by european colonialism) and are not a way to joke about your admiration for something

"I’m not for speeches… Never have been anyway."

Tattoo done by Pietro Sedda.


Tattoo done by Pietro Sedda.



NEW MUSIC: Faada Freddy - “We Sing In Time”.

Sounding nothing short of uplifting, Senegalese artist Faada Freddy's new music video for his single We Sing In Time is beautifully cinematic and even more cheerful than the lyrics are.

Shot in Dakar, Faada plays the role of a musical pied piper gathering men, women and children on his joyous journey through the streets of a neighborhood in the capital, singing the infectious melody of We Sing In Time along the way.

Faada Freddy will be in concert in Paris on the November 28th, 2014 at the Trianon,

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All Africa, All the time.










who mama

Future mommy goals

Can we acknowledge that little black girl’s flawless entry. There was no hesitation in her step. She is the rhythm

^^^^ Flawless. You ain’t eem know she was jumpin in til she did it.

Me & my future baby at the function.

someone give me a kid !

Tooooo smooth


Future mommy goals!