Ecco, ma da dove viene questa gente? Ma come hanno fatto questi presuntuosi, arroganti, supponenti, arrivisti, giovani squal(lid)i democristiani a prendere il comando di quello che è stato il più grande partito della sinistra italiana? Chi ha permesso a questi strafottenti avanzi di oratorio di parlare e agire per conto della sinistra italiana? Come siamo arrivati a questo punto? No, così, per curiosità…

Curiosità | Don Zauker (via gianlucavisconti)

I miei genitori se lo stanno chiedendo da un bel po’

(via heresiae)

(via heresiae)


Letter from Norwegian hero doctor who is in Gaza right now

modawod:

Letter from Norwegian hero doctor who is in Gaza right now 
Dr. Mads Gilbert MD PhD

image

Dearest friends -


The last night was extreme. The “ground invasion” of Gaza resulted in scores and carloads with maimed, torn apart, bleeding, shivering, dying - all sorts of injured Palestinians, all ages, all civilians, all innocent.

The heroes in the ambulances and in all of Gaza’s hospitals are working 12-24hrs shifts, grey from fatigue and inhuman workloads (without payment all in Shifa for the last 4 months), they care, triage, try to understand the incomprehensible chaos of bodies, sizes, limbs, walking, not walking, breathing, not breathing, bleeding, not bleeding humans. HUMANS!

Now, once more treated like animals by “the most moral army in the world” (sic!).

My respect for the wounded is endless, in their contained determination in the midst of pain, agony and shock; my admiration for the staff and volunteers is endless, my closeness to the Palestinian “sumud” gives me strength, although in glimpses I just want to scream, hold someone tight, cry, smell the skin and hair of the warm child, covered in blood, protect ourselves in an endless embrace - but we cannot afford that, nor can they.

Ashy grey faces - Oh NO! not one more load of tens of maimed and bleeding, we still have lakes of blood on the floor in the ER, piles of dripping, blood-soaked bandages to clear out - oh - the cleaners, everywhere, swiftly shovelling the blood and discarded tissues, hair, clothes,cannulas - the leftovers from death - all taken away…to be prepared again, to be repeated all over.

More then 100 cases came to Shifa last 24 hrs. enough for a large well trained hospital with everything, but here - almost nothing: electricity, water, disposables, drugs, OR-tables, instruments, monitors - all rusted and as if taken from museums of yesterdays hospitals.But they do not complain, these heroes. They get on with it, like warriors, head on, enormous resolute.t

And as I write these words to you, alone, on a bed, my tears flows, the warm but useless tears of pain and grief, of anger and fear. This is not happening!

An then, just now, the orchestra of the Israeli war-machine starts its gruesome symphony again, just now: salvos of artillery from the navy boats just down on the shores, the roaring F16, the sickening drones (Arabic ‘Zennanis’, the hummers), and the cluttering Apaches. So much made and paid in and by US.

Mr. Obama - do you have a heart?

I invite you - spend one night - just one night - with us in Shifa. Disguised as a cleaner, maybe.

I am convinced, 100%, it would change history.

Nobody with a heart AND power could ever walk away from a night in Shifa without being determined to end the slaughter of the Palestinian people.

But the heartless and merciless have done their calculations and planned another “dahyia” onslaught on Gaza.

The rivers of blood will keep running the coming night. I can hear they have tuned their instruments of death.

Please. Do what you can. This, THIS cannot continue.

Mads
Gaza, Occupied Palestine
Mads Gilbert MD PhD
Professor and Clinical Head
Clinic of Emergency Medicine
University Hospital of North Norway


Stay Human. Stop Bombing Gaza.

Stay Human. Stop Bombing Gaza.


Il bene si fa, ma non si dice. E certe medaglie si appendono all’anima, non alla giacca.


cuiprodest:

Coraggio sù, sù. Utilizza il mio metodo di studio: mi sto occupando solo ed esclusivamente di argomenti ed autori che mi aggradano. Se passo bene e se non passo… bene lo stesso. Come si dice: a mali estremi, estremi chiccazzo se ne frega.

Ma geografia Martina, GEOGRAFIA.

Cioè, GEOGRAFIA.

No beh, parliamoci chiaro: la GEOGRAFIA NON ESISTE. Quella io non la studio dalla terza elementare, rifiuto categorico. In questo caso faccio un po’di geografia storica, umana ed un po’di antropologia/sociologia, volendo proporio esagerare eh. Dai cuiprodest nun te abbatte’, vedrai che spaccheremo il culo ai passerotti!


preludetowind:

"Many of my movies have strong female leads - brave, self-sufficient girls that don’t think twice about fighting for what they believe in with all their heart. They’ll need a friend, or a supporter, but never a savior. Any woman is just as capable of being a hero as any man." - Hayao Miyazaki

(via laconicamentebreve)


cross-connect:

Tahel Maor is an artist and illustrator from Tel Aviv. She graduate of Kalisher College of Art and New Media, Tel Aviv. Her work has been showcased in many leading galleries in the cityAll amazing illustrations, pastel shades, tells a story and provides a glimpse into Tahel’s magical imagination. 

(via pavelvonsanktpetersfeld)


suparlak:

a field guide to famous catsby elly liyana

suparlak:

a field guide to famous cats
by elly liyana

(via gimama)


Io non è che volevo essere felice, questo no. Volevo… salvarmi, ecco: salvarmi. Ma ho capito tardi da che parte bisognava andare: dalla parte dei desideri. Uno si aspetta che siano altre cose a salvare la gente: il dovere, l’onestà, essere buoni, essere giusti. No. Sono i desideri che salvano. Sono l’unica cosa vera. Tu stai con loro, e ti salverai.
Alessandro Baricco, Oceano mare (via bluebirdinmymind)

(via cosanesaitu)



Eppure, se avessi potuto ricominciare da capo, ero sicuro che avrei rifatto le stesse identiche cose.
Perché quello ero io
Haruki Murakami (via mariofiorerosso)

(via emilybaudelaire)


pellerossa:

Non faccio sesso da così tanto tempo che non mi ricordo più se la sigaretta si fumi prima o dopo.


Provai la familiare convinzione che con l’estate la vita stesse ricominciando da capo.
Il grande Gatsby - Francis Scott Fitzgerald (via ermione13)

(via nietzscheinlife)