Eco Biodiverse Tiny House Communities with shared commons towards re-wilding and protecting the natural world

Eco Biodiverse Tiny House Communities with shared commons towards re-wilding and protecting the natural world

I propose building tiny house communities to provide affordable housing, with an emphasis on living harmoniously with biodiversity in a clean and sustainable manner within the local geophysical environmental parameters.  The community members investment prioritizes clean land, water, energy, transportation, shared gardens – as part of an ‘economic’ commons – in which shared ownership encourages…

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There are aspects of ASOIAF that I never discuss because they seem so self-evident to me that there's really no need to discuss them, it seems so obvious that to point them out verges on obnoxious. I'm going to discuss one of those now, mostly out of frustration. Apologies in advance.

But people assign entirely the wrong metaphor to Danaerys's dragons? Dragons are not WMD. They are not nukes. They're a slightly tricksier metaphor but a pretty clear one. There is a very simple tell for this, and it's based in the difference between a dragon and a bomb, or a dragon and an unbeatable valyrian sword.

Dragons are alive.

Dragons have to eat.

This starts becoming a problem right away and it continues to grow throughout the books. Even the tiny dragons are a conundrum, because at first they don't want to eat anything. Dany learns early on that they need meat, and they need meat that is heavily charred but fresh. Something burned alive is ideal.

When they're tiny, that's pretty simple. You can just set aside meat from your own food supply, let them fire blast it, and presto, dinner. But the more they grow, the more they eat. They need more and more meat. They need larger animals. Then they need multiple animals. Then whole flocks. On an ongoing basis. Where is this food going to come from?

You would have to set up a whole industry of dragon-feeding, animals raised and set aside to feed three full-grown dragons rather than communities of people. It will take a pretty wealthy society to maintain dragons. And until this is set up, hungry dragons are going to search for their dinner and demolish flocks of sheep, cattle, etc that are already conveniently gathered into one spot for them like a buffet. In the process, ruining the livelihoods of whatever unfortunate shephard or farmer provided that day's meal, and potentially taking food out of hungry mouths.

And then, eventually, inevitably, they start eating people.

And what does Dany do about this? She tries chaining them up, to keep them from eating her subjects, but this is not tenable. She also loves them; they are her babies. She raised them from the moment of their birth. Chaining them up pains her, as they are living intelligent creatures who are not meant to be kept underground. Plus she knows it is a stopgap solution at best. Drogon, for example, can never be imprisoned like that, and he is still roaming the countryside eating whatever's convenient. But she never comes up with an alternate solution. We leave her in this struggle where the books leave off. She's trying to balance her responsibilities in a just way, when there doesn't appear to be a just solution. Dragons are always going to be a thumb on that scale, because she loves them and because she needs them to maintain her power.

(psst: kind of like how we love our oil, and our coal, and anything else that's wrecking the ecosystem and making people very very rich)

In the show, at least, Dany seems to just put the problem out of her mind and forget about it -- same way she does with Slaver's Bay. She just kind of leaves Essos so the show can get her to Westeros, and before very long Dany is encouraging her dragons to feed on her enemies with no ethical quandry at all. Either D&D did not care about the problem of Dragons and the Meereenese Knot (which are really the same problem), or they did not understand the problem or recognize how essential it is to Dany's story, or they like GRRM were not sure how to resolve it satisfyingly and decided to just ignore it. It's easier to make Dany a villian than try.

That's kind of understandable. I mean, it's a big problem. It's the problem of leadership in a compromised system. It's the problem where the very thing that powers your best intentions is inevitably going to corrupt them, because you are now part of the same broken structure that your forebears were, the one that doesn't work, the one that is rotten to the core. If Danaerys is going to step into House Targaryen's shoes she's going to perpetuate the same old problems no matter how much she wants to do the right thing. She has to become more and more morally compromised as she takes larger and larger responsibilities and her dragons are just the first part of that. It's the same problem that Jon is facing in ADWD and Jaime is facing in AFFC and pretty much everyone in ASOIAF is dealing with all the time. This society is broken. Unless you step outside of it somehow, it will either kill you or corrupt you.

Anyway TLDR: Dragons. Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. Dany's babies give her the power to change the world for the better, but they are eating the world too. There's a cost. She has to decide whether she is willing to pay it, and how.

OK so. Technap, that eventually becomes Dreamnonap upon more demons that Aspens decided to attack me with:

The conception of the AU was that Sapnap, wanting to learn about Dreams location/weaknesses/etc., goes to Techno to practice sparring, also hoping that he can learn some fighting techniques to use against Dream. He of course doesn't say that when asking Techno to spar, because Techno has very clearly made his allegiances regarding Dream clear: that's his best friend. So Sap is going with the Friendly Sparring Every Week To Improve Myself Option.

The result is: Techno absolutely wipes the floor with Sapnap, is extraordinary tight lipped about his dearest bestie, and Sapnap is really, really gay

When Aspens specifically talked about their relationship he described it as "a bond" and incited some level of not just romantic implications but platonic ones as well

Their Bond Grew, This Potential Bond

Which makes it really compelling. And also I think Sapnap is gay for a man who can beat his ass. It's a ruse at first but Techno's just charming, and ultimately Sapnap is a determined person, and I think Techno appreciates that

Slowly slides them together

And then of course while they're having a hot drink, Sapnap admits that Hey Actually This Was The Initial Reason I Came To Spar With You, But It Isn't Anymore

And Techno sits there's and untangles that complicated fuckery of "I was sortve used sortve not, to get to my bestie, and there were some bad intentions there that I can relate to, and oh god I have to find a way to respond to this he's looking at me like I have to respond"

And Sapnap assumes he's fucked everything up and just. Leaves. Thinks that no only has he lost his past bond with Dream, but he's lost any chance at a new bond with Techno.

Because he's started to accept, after spending time with Techno who pushes only a positive narrative of Dream, that maybe he's fucked up with Dream a little. Just a tiny bit.

And now he's just. Alone. Fuck.

And he doesn't come to their next sparring session that week. And Techno mopes about that until Phil pushes him out of the house to go talk to Sapnap

They're both really good at communicating

Totally

They promise

Techno totally didn't watch Sapnap leave after saying all that and just assume his silence would be fine

He's normal and good at feelings

But after Techno goes and searches the smp, and finds Sapnap when Enderboo shows up and directs him over to the area,

And Sapnap assumes Techno is here to kill him. His facial expression looked vaguely murder-y before Sapnap just up and left, and he Is carrying a big fuck off sword.

But they sort of talk. Badly. They figure it out and they're not good at communicating but they're sparring together again and sort of dating maybe???? Listen

They flirt and and clearly have Something going on but neither of them could tell you what it is

They're dating but neither of them will say dating out loud. There's something wrong with them.

And of course, meanwhile, The Egg Comes Back, and Red Punz is now happening. Dream would like his Punz back, and Technoblade is the most reliable person he has to get them back.

So he treks all the way to the arctic, gets all the way over, and Sapnap Is There

That's Not Normal

Dream messages Techno asking for a safe time to meet, because he has no idea why Sapnap is there, he's trying to avoid an ambush, maybe Sapnap decided to blame Techno for Dream escaping and decided Techno is bad now too???

Except Techno is reassuring him that Sapnap is Fine, Actually. Sapnap isn't hostile anymore. It's all cool. They can all work on taking care of the Egg together! Ignore that Sapnap is still grumbly to Dream and still saying 'I don't like you still this I'm just not gonna go after you anymore'

(Techno: you can't go after Dream, it would make me sad! You wouldn't do that to me right :(((

Sap: … goddamit stop making those eyes at me >:(

Techno: I win )

Sapnap is like, both not hunting Dream anymore because OK Maybe There's More Going On And I Fucked Up A Little

But also because he wouldn't hurt Techno. He is a grumble Panda

But then during a battle, Dream is in danger, and Sapnap protects him, and Now They're Tending To Each Others Wounds and

Dream: you wouldn't have been faulted if I died. No one would have blamed you

Sapnap:…..

The thing I love most about Harringrove as a ship is how real it actually feels to me.

You gotta follow me here for a sec.

My mom grew up in a rural town in Ohio. Even smaller than Hawkins would be... and one of the things she gripes most about that town is how all the classmates she had have never left. Their whole waking reality is that tiny place and everything in it. Where the rich popular kid at her high school was the daughter of someone who owned the local gas station. Where the poor kids lived on the edge of town and worked the farms all summer long for cash. Where most kids graduated to then take over their parent's professions as the town veterinarian, the doctor, the local political leader... Where a night out consisted of one movie theater, underaged drinking, and speeding down unpaved country roads. Where most kids just married one another straight after high school and started a family without question.

They never ever left. Everything was taken at face value.

And I feel like this plugs right into where Steve is at the beginning of season 2. Having Nancy read over his early application essay. He even says that it may just be better if he goes to work for his dad after high school... that having a provided job, insurance, 'all the adult things' wouldn't be so bad. Steve is getting tired of Hawkins but he has no clear idea of how to truly be rid of it. He's starting to accept it... That he may never leave Hawkins. It's just not possible for him.

Then Billy comes into the school lot, engine roaring. And for the first time Steve is seeing something. A way out of Hawkins. A potential new future outside of Indiana. Billy's presence shows Steve that there is a wider world outside of towing the line and meeting other's expectations, taking over his dad's insurance business, being a staple in a community that for the most part never changes. Billy is a big fish being thrust into a small pond.

With Billy, Steve sees possibilities. He doesn't have to 'raise hell for four years' only to 'talk about it for the next forty' (as my mother would say). High school will no longer be the only good thing Steve can look back on. He doesn't even need to look back. Everything lies ahead. Billy is a rush of fresh air to this stifling place that Steve increasingly feels trapped by.

Not too dissimilarly, Billy comes to Hawkins feeling trapped. It's a town where every house has an American flag, and the spiciest thing on any local menu is three-bean chili. It's lackluster, boring, stuffy, and not tolerant to change. Everyone who's ever come to Hawkins from the outside eventually becomes Hawkins head to toe. Billy doesn't want that. He hates that. He is not about to accept and adopt a sleepy country lifestyle. Full of rolling hills and quiet Sunday mornings. Family dinners and church potlucks. County fairs and sprawling farmsteads. It's ridiculous, borderlining on offensive that Billy should have to adhere to such things. He wants to maintain every inch of who he is without compromise. Live in the fast lane even if its a two-lane highway through Amish country. Take in the sun on bright summer days even if its poolside and not oceanside. Smoke and listen to metal with the volume blaring and the windows down even as others shake their heads in disapproval. Wear whatever he damn well pleases while others wear khakis and polos.

The bottom line is Billy was always too big for Hawkins and Steve has outgrown it.

They need each other to survive. To get out of Hawkins. To truly live the lives they are meant to.

Previous First

"We met on University, I was on the student council and he was the type of guy who was everywhere, all volunteer works, all university events, all sport competitions, he was there. So, I decided to befriend him, to get information on how the student body was doing"

"You networked your way into romance?"

"Don't say it like that"

"We made a great team, He was amazing at managing time and ideas, while i'm great at people managing and overall organizing. We admired that about eachother. That admiration turned into love, I think"

"He told me of his big project, his dream company. We were young, we were extremely competent, and most importantly, he was rich. So, clearly, it was a success."

"After that we had it all, a nice house, money, time. So we decided to take the next step: kids"

"From the moment I saw my little Nadia's tiny hand, I knew this was happiness. I knew that this was all that i've worked for, that it was finally time to rest."

"Eugene wanted a boy too, so we had another. Two silly little things waddling around the house."

"But after a while, he was restless again, He wanted more projects, more travels, more deals. But I couldn't join him, our kids needed us!, I tried to make him understand that, but he took it as an invitation to just do it alone"

"He appeared once every month or so, bringing gifts to the kids, claiming he loved them. I hope he did"

"Honestly, If it wasn't for Nina I wouldn't be standing right now."

"Excuse me, who?"

"Eugene's sister, She's always been there for me. She's wonderful with kids, and with me. I would do anything for her"

"We raised the kids together, they still call her "Mama Nina" sometimes. it was difficult, but she made it all better"

"Until one day. when suddenly Eugene came back carrying divorce papers"

"I asked why, and he just said he was over with family, that he tried it but didn't want it anymore, so he was going to leave"

"He decided to take the house, and our shared bank account"

"At first I thought he was cheating on me, but then I realized it was way worse"

"He never loved, he wanted the concept of a wife, of kids and family. But he didn't care, he just wanted to check that mark and continue with the next life event. I was just another dumb girl being used by a selfish rich guy"

"I don't really remember what I did, maybe I cried, maybe I screamed. But knowing myself, I probably just stood in silence and accepted it."

"Nina didn't accept it at all"

"I've heard siblings fight but never like this. Whatever she said must have really moved him, because next thing I know, he's running away from authorities"

"The thought of all my youth, my potential, my life prospects being squashed by one man- I... I wasn't coping well.

I screamed and cried and said horrible things to the people I love. My kids went to live with their friend. I drove Nina away. And when i tried being better, doing something for the community, this happens. He haunts me. We are still perceived as husband as wife because we didn't tell anyone!"

"I don't know why this is happening, but I know one thing: Just like his name, that man is a bacteria. He will infect you and slowly rot your insides, and you will never realize it until he has killed you already."

"Tell me, detective. Now that you've listened to all that."

9 fandom peeps to get to know better (ty @vaynglories)

3 ships you like: i like earnest bastard4bastard relationships so. garak/bashir for the mindgames. superbat/bruclark for the four way identity hijinks potentials. eames/arthur for the amount you have to make up, props to that community.

first ship ever: it's always been about the pining babeyyyyy

last song you heard: i make hamburgers - the whitlams (wow, the top comment on that youtube video is a trip)

favorite childhood book: high five to @vaynglories, it's also lord of the rings. i typed up every song in word in apple chancery and printed them all from my school's library computer, along with all the maps, which surely cost a fortune in ink. what was I doing with all those pages?? collecting them like a little gremlin, pretty sure, I don't think I ever referenced them

currently reading: you know, I don't think I've revealed this on tumblr, but we are way past the 'keep it to yourself just in case' point, so: I'm going through the last section of emily oster's 'expecting better' and also starting the sequel, 'cribsheet', because she's chill and all about data and I'm about to be 7 months pregnant

currently watching: can't get enough of living big in a tiny house

currently consuming: love the ambiguity as to whether this is a food or a media question. i've been eating just a ton of chicken lately. i assume there's some sort of nutrients thing involved.

currently craving: re: that pregnancy reveal three questions ago, a big ol' list of forbidden foods. deli sandwiches. ibuprofen. a tragic number of herbal teas. sushi. ibuprofen. oysters. ritalin. god, ibuprofen. next time your body hurts, please take ibuprofen for me. i didn't know what i had......

tag yourself at will and say I did it

The slug wars

So, I've been complaining about how slugs ate a part of my beans; since that day, I've been consistently walking to the garden, every single evening, and sometimes morning as well, and pulled the slugs out of my garden. It's been very rainy, and rain encourages and enables slugs, so for the first few days, the number of slugs has been in the low hundreds. On my 10x2meter garden. But, then it cleared up a little, and the numbers reduced to maybe 20-30 slugs a day! I felt like this slug season is nearing a close, and then, it stormed, and the numbers went right back up to several hundred.

Most of other gardeners have silently given up and introduced slug poison to their gardens, thus protecting their very small baby plants from the arms of hungry slug babies. I do believe that this encouraged every slug in the community garden, to come to my garden instead, which is filled with tasty strawberries and baby beans and has zero slug poison. And if they're caught in it, eating the plants, all that happens to them is they're relocated to the tall grass about a mile away.

I've managed to reduce the number a little, and then another downburst again, increased the number of slugs to hundreds a day. I have been fighting for dear life, readers. When I come to the garden, every baby plant inside of the garden has at least 2 baby slugs eating it. Every big plant has 3-10 of them. Even weeds. Yesterday, even every blade of grass around my garden had a slug on it. I am no longer a believer of my own methods, I think since I'm consistently taking them out, they believe that there's so much food for everyone, and keep reproducing, and keep making more, since there's no crowd whatsoever.

I've read somewhere that you can put a half of citrus skin in the garden, with a little hole in it. Then, a slug will slide inside, and feast on the sweet citrus flavour, and when the day comes, it's still dark in there, so they won't crawl out, and you can just take them and do with them as you please. Curious, I placed 2 citrus leftovers and put them around the garden like tiny slug houses. 1 single slug was caught in this trap. We are back to the planning board.

I do not know if this slug season will end, since the forecast is announcing, yet more rain, but my persistent efforts and sabotage of slugs wielded some results; some of my beans finally started to grow. The ones sown in thick strawberry patches did not make it, this originally genious plan did not come to fruition for me. Maybe it would work on a potentially dry year that does not produce thousands of slugs. I might attempt it again, when I have enough space to experiment, I still think it was a good idea. The beans around very spaced strawberry plants are starting to climb up!

At this point fighting the slug population, is what my life is all about. I harvest a little basket of strawberries, I pick unending slugs off of plants, and then I go home and make strawberry jam, and repeat it the next day.

Tagged by @silvery-bluish to look for orange, hand, shout, and run in my WIPs! Thanks for this, it was so much fun, even if it was surprisingly difficult to find "shout" anywhere in my fics, meanwhile, hand(s) were everywhere!! Guess my fics are subconsciously channeling my obsession towards hands and aversion to shouting. What an odd and fun discovery!

I'll tag forward.... uhmmm... @wonda-fhr ! I can't think of many others who may be up for sharing WIP snippets since I'm still trying to match tumblr faces or AO3/discord. No pressure to participate and even if I didn't tag you feel free to mention me if you want to do the prompt below anyways!

Forward prompt: Sky, teeth, hate, red

My Prompts

orange

She wants to scream. Wants to down the bottle, wants to smash it on the ground, wants to grab a gas pump and coat the asphalt, wants to set a match and watch it explode and hear the screams echo into a silent, desolate world that will never hear them. Trees don’t make a sound when they fall. Not when there’s no one there to hear them. No one would know. It’s a back road in the middle of nowhere, in a nowhere town with nowhere people, people like her. People who the government pretends don’t exist.

The FEZ’s own not-people that they dump nuclear ash on top of because they’re virtual uninhabitants. People who exist where they shouldn’t because it’s inconvenient, in the middle of nowhere in nuclear testing grounds, and people who don’t exist because of that very fact. Still more ‘people’ than she ever will be. Still ‘people’ enough to make her angry. Make her bitter. Make her crave match and flame and ash on her tongue, on her clothes, hot and burning enough to peel the lines of neon orange from her flesh. Hot enough to melt through and eat everything beneath. Bite. Lash out. Tear.

Tearteartearclawriptearkilltakescreamwhydidn’ttheycomeforme—

An excerpt from stray. , a chronological collection of shorts surrounding Cerrísa Becerra and her times after the first & second escapes. This one is set after the second escape. can you feel my environmental studies training peeking through lol?

shout(s)

“Oh, yes, yes, we fucking do,” she growls, finally twisting around to face him, the movement harsh enough that it makes him pause. She’ll give him what he wants. He wants her to face him? Wants her to open up, tell him everything that’s wrong? Why she never told him? Fine. Ortega should have learned long ago to be careful with what he wishes for, because she’s going to make sure it blows up in his face spectacularly.

“I didn’t tell you because it could never happen!” She shouts, all thoughts of proximity discomfort tossed out the window as she lunges forward, her face almost directly against his chest and her neck twisted uncomfortably to glare up at him through foggy eyes.

This snippet is from an untitled WIP I never finished. Ortega and Isa talking about why she never told him that she loved him, post-guilty and potentially post-faker. I initially made it back when Isa had the Anger Motivation, but it's since been abandoned as I no longer feel that it's very accurate to her character.

run(ning)

How did they even make it out alive back then, running blind and recklessly? He doesn’t know, not anymore. Did they? Make it? Alive? Is he? alive?

He supposes that he never really left. He stands somewhere on the Palos Verdes coastline, the shore too damaged and volatile after The Big One for any houses or communities to remain or be rebuilt. Abandoned. Isolated. Too remote for most things to survive. His body, physical, impermeable, is here, but his mind is elsewhere. It always has been. Even out here, where he can spread his wings and live, he still doesn’t feel alive. Still feels trapped in that tiny cell of four white walls, isolated from the world. From others. The change in scenery hasn’t helped. The grass isn’t greener. The frog still remembers the well. He still doesn’t feel alive. Still doesn’t feel free, a butterfly that sacrificed its wings to escape the web. Still doesn’t feel real, not in the way that matters. But then again, he’s never felt that way, never felt that self-confidence and assuredness that his handlers would carry. The confidence that comes from knowing that you’re human. From knowing that you matter.

Excerpt from palos verdes blue, the prequel to another WIP (below). Since this WIP may be published very soon, I won't elaborate much other than it's in FHR universe separate from Sidestep's story! :3

hand(s)

Instead, Dennis’ hands carefully travel up his arms, slow enough that if Larry wanted to, he could pull away, bat his arms aside and run but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to run. He’s so tired of running. A small, delirious part of him wonders if he’s going to die like this, in the hands of a small, fragile human who could ruin his life in a heartbeat with the flick of a lightswitch, because he doesn’t have it in himself to kill, not this one, not this person, who, for a few small seconds, made him feel wanted, made him feel alive before his demons caught up to him. There’s nervousness and worry tinting Dennis’ motions as he convinces Larry to lower his hands. His thin, frail fingers rub small, soothing circles into the inside of his wrists, soft fingers smoothing over scars

Excerpt from sargasso sea. I debated on including the previous paragraph for context but. Ah. Hmm. Too spoilery? This will be published soon, anyways, after palos verdes blue.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!!

The Benefits Of Hempcrete

This is the house that Hemp built.

The benefits of using Hempcrete in every construction project.

Written by Casper Leitch

The benefits of Hempcrete is that it is a game-changer in the realm of Eco-friendly construction. If you're passionate about industrial hemp, hemp farming, or just want to see our planet thrive, you will be excited by the wonders of this revolutionary building material.

What is Hempcrete? It's a blend of industrial hemp, lime, and water coming together to form a supercharged building material. It's like nature's own recipe for sustainable construction, packed with benefits that go beyond your average brick and mortar.

An example is found in insulation uses. Hempcrete is like a cozy blanket for your home, but better. Its natural fibers create tiny air pockets, acting as a barrier against pesky temperature changes. Whether it's a scorching summer day or a chilly winter night, Hempcrete keeps things just right inside, saving you money on heating and cooling bills.

Hempcrete doesn't just keep you comfy, it keeps you safe too. Thanks to its fire-resistant properties, you can rest easy knowing your home is protected against potential disasters. No need to worry about flames spreading like wildfire, you are protected from fire in building built with Hempcrete.

While most building materials contribute to carbon emissions during production, Hempcrete does the opposite. As it cures, it actually sucks up carbon dioxide from the air, locking it away for good. It's like building your home while giving the planet a big hug.

Why aren't we seeing Hempcrete buildings popping up left and right? It all comes down to outdated regulations and misconceptions about industrial hemp. By spreading the word about the incredible potential of Hempcrete, we can push for policy changes that prioritize sustainability in construction. Imagine a world where every new building is a step towards a greener, cleaner future.

So whether you're into hemp farming, ending hemp prohibition, or just want to see our planet thrive, let's rally together and champion the widespread adoption of Hempcrete. Help educate business leaders and politicians in your community about the benefits, applications, and potential impact on the construction industry and the environment that the use of Hempcrete has.

The Insulation Powerhouse: Unraveling the Secrets of Hempcrete's Thermal Properties

Let's start by taking a closer look at Hempcrete's insulation capabilities – the cornerstone of its appeal as a sustainable building material. Traditional insulation materials often rely on synthetic fibers that are energy-intensive to produce and may contain harmful chemicals. In contrast, Hempcrete harnesses the natural properties of industrial hemp to create a highly efficient thermal barrier.

At the heart of Hempcrete's insulation prowess lies its unique composition. Made from a mixture of hemp hurds (the inner woody core of the hemp plant), lime binder, and water, Hempcrete forms a lightweight yet durable material with excellent insulating properties. The hemp fibers create a matrix of tiny air pockets within the material, effectively trapping heat during the winter months and repelling it during the summer – a phenomenon known as thermal inertia.

But what sets Hempcrete apart from traditional insulation materials is its ability to regulate humidity levels within a building. Unlike synthetic insulation materials, which can trap moisture and promote mold growth, Hempcrete acts as a natural moisture buffer, absorbing excess humidity when conditions are damp and releasing it when the air is dry. This not only helps to maintain a comfortable indoor environment but also contributes to improved air quality and reduced risk of mold-related health issues.

From an environmental standpoint, Hempcrete's insulation properties offer significant advantages over conventional materials. By reducing the need for artificial heating and cooling systems, Hempcrete helps to lower energy consumption and carbon emissions associated with building operations. Additionally, its natural composition makes it biodegradable at the end of its lifecycle, minimizing environmental impact and reducing reliance on finite resources.

Fire Resistance: Protecting Lives and Property with Hempcrete

In addition to its insulation properties, Hempcrete boasts impressive fire resistance – a critical feature for ensuring the safety and longevity of building structures. Unlike conventional building materials, which may combust or release toxic fumes when exposed to fire, Hempcrete exhibits a remarkable ability to withstand high temperatures without compromising its structural integrity.

The secret to Hempcrete's fire resistance lies in its mineral composition and low density. Lime, the primary binder used in Hempcrete, is inherently fire-resistant and acts as a natural flame retardant. When exposed to heat, the lime undergoes a process known as calcination, in which it releases water vapor and absorbs heat energy, effectively limiting the spread of flames and preventing the material from igniting.

Additionally, the low thermal conductivity of Hempcrete helps to slow the transfer of heat through the material, further reducing the risk of fire propagation. This combination of factors makes Hempcrete an ideal choice for fire-prone environments and high-risk applications where building safety is of utmost concern.

Beyond its immediate benefits for building occupants and stakeholders, Hempcrete's fire resistance has broader implications for public safety and disaster resilience. In regions prone to wildfires, hurricanes, or other natural disasters, buildings constructed with Hempcrete can serve as a protective barrier against external threats, providing invaluable peace of mind to residents and emergency responders alike.

Carbon Sequestration: Fighting Climate Change One Building at a Time

Perhaps the most compelling aspect of Hempcrete is its capacity for carbon sequestration – the process of capturing and storing carbon dioxide from the atmosphere. While traditional building materials often contribute to carbon emissions during production, Hempcrete operates in reverse, actively removing carbon dioxide from the air as it cures.

The key to Hempcrete's carbon sequestration potential lies in the carbon-negative nature of industrial hemp cultivation. Hemp plants absorb CO2 from the atmosphere during photosynthesis, converting it into biomass that can be used to produce a wide range of sustainable products, including building materials like Hempcrete. When hemp hurds are mixed with lime and water to create Hempcrete, the carbon stored within the plant material is effectively locked away for the lifespan of the building, reducing net carbon emissions associated with construction activities.

But the environmental benefits of Hempcrete don't stop there. In addition to sequestering carbon dioxide during its production, Hempcrete continues to contribute to carbon mitigation throughout its lifecycle. As a highly durable and long-lasting material, Hempcrete helps to minimize the need for frequent renovations or replacements, further reducing energy consumption and carbon emissions associated with building maintenance and disposal.

From an ecological standpoint, the cultivation of industrial hemp for Hempcrete production offers additional environmental benefits, including soil remediation, biodiversity preservation, and reduced reliance on fossil fuels and synthetic chemicals. By choosing Hempcrete over conventional building materials, builders and developers can play a significant role in combating climate change and building a more sustainable future for generations to come.

Overcoming Barriers to Adoption: Navigating Regulations and Changing Perceptions

Despite its numerous advantages, Hempcrete continues to face obstacles to widespread adoption, ranging from regulatory barriers to entrenched perceptions within the construction industry. In many countries, outdated regulations and misconceptions about industrial hemp have limited the use of Hempcrete in mainstream construction projects, relegating it to niche applications or experimental prototypes.

One of the primary challenges facing the widespread adoption of Hempcrete is the lack of standardized building codes and regulatory frameworks governing its use. Unlike traditional building materials, which have undergone rigorous testing and certification processes, Hempcrete is often subject to a patchwork of regulations that vary from region to region, making it difficult for builders and developers to navigate the permitting process and obtain approval for Hempcrete projects.

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Looking ahead, the future of Hempcrete appears bright, with ample opportunities for innovation and growth in the sustainable construction sector. As builders, architects, and developers continue to seek out Eco-friendly alternatives to conventional building materials, Hempcrete stands poised to capture a larger share of the market and emerge as a mainstream solution for sustainable building projects.

One of the key drivers of growth for the Hempcrete industry is the expanding market for green building materials and sustainable construction practices. With increasing awareness of the environmental and health impacts of traditional construction methods, consumers and industry professionals alike are turning to alternatives like Hempcrete to reduce their carbon footprint and create healthier indoor environments. This growing demand for sustainable building materials, coupled with advancements in hemp cultivation and processing technology, is fueling investment and innovation in the Hempcrete sector, driving down costs and expanding the range of applications for this versatile material.

However, despite its promise and potential, Hempcrete still faces a number of challenges that must be addressed in order to realize its full impact on the construction industry and the environment. Chief among these challenges is the need for continued research and development to optimize the performance, durability, and scalability of Hempcrete as a mainstream building material. While Hempcrete has demonstrated impressive properties in laboratory and small-scale applications, further testing and validation are needed to ensure its suitability for larger, more complex construction projects and diverse climatic conditions.

Additionally, efforts to overcome regulatory barriers and promote acceptance of Hempcrete within the construction industry will be crucial to its long-term success and viability. By advocating for standardized building codes, certification standards, and industry guidelines for Hempcrete construction, stakeholders can create a more supportive regulatory environment that encourages investment, innovation, and adoption of sustainable building practices.

In conclusion, Hempcrete represents a promising solution to the environmental and economic challenges facing the construction industry in the 21st century. With its exceptional insulation properties, fire resistance, and capacity for carbon sequestration, Hempcrete offers a compelling alternative to traditional building materials that is both sustainable and cost-effective. As advocates for industrial hemp, hemp farming, and sustainable development, we have a unique opportunity to champion the widespread adoption of Hempcrete and pave the way for a greener, more resilient built environment. By working together to overcome regulatory barriers, promote awareness, and drive innovation, we can harness the full potential of Hempcrete to create a brighter future for generations to come. Let's build a greener world, one Hempcrete block at a time.

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One Day At A Time.

i've been talking with my husband on the topic of the hypervigilance of oppressed minorities and traumatized people in general.

when a group of people are under constant threat, the individuals in those groups have to face every situation with the understanding that it can be an attack on them, it can be a threat to their safety or their life, it can destroy their relationships and even interfere with their jobs or housing or children. i know this, firsthand, as i imagine many people on this site do... and i'm demonstrably not above overcompensating for that looming threat myself, but i often struggle to see it in others. and thinking of myself as a threat, or a potential one, has to be a mindful exercise because it does not come naturally and honestly i haven't ever really had a strong need to consider.

i dunno if we're all really being played against each other. it feels like it, a lot of the time. but we all have to see each other as potentially life ruining, because honestly any stranger could be with the wrong series of choices or too public an online persona or letting too many details of your life out where people can find them.

and being in this headspace of at least a little bit but usually quite a lot more than a little bit on edge all the time is exhausting, it's awful, it makes us respond to things from that position of "this conversation is dangerous to me". which sucks somewhere like tumblr where regardless of what the people in charge are doing, the majority of the users are here for love, support, to share fandoms or art or whatever to create a beautiful space. and, often, to band together in solidarity. this is the only site i see hundreds of posts sending love and support to palestinians without the weird mysterious ~glitches~ that leave people unable to comment on pro-palestine posts. it's the only site i see mutual aid and emergency crowdfunding numbers actually go up as they get reblogged and passed around to people who may not even have enough for their own bills but are farther from homelessness than the person asking and so they donate what they can anyway. it's a beautiful community full of people stuck on survival mode, trying their best.

so i engaged with a post tonight earnestly, seeing it only from my perspective. which... is something we all need to work on as a general rule, but also i pride myself on my ability to see things from different angles and even being good at that i still very much did not understand the other side. explaining why i was getting pushback for what i said to someone who has less context and understanding helped me to realize, well, why i was getting pushback. and unlike experiences i've had before, in places more cynical and less communal, the people upset with me were also being earnest and i handled that poorly.

i don't ever want a trans woman (or anyone) on this website to feel like i am a danger to them, their safety... or even their joy on this site. because honestly, wrecking someone's day by being hostile to them is more than just getting some justice or being heard like it feels like in the moment. it's also adding to the pile of tiny and huge awful things they're dealing with already. it's telling that survival mode that yeah, actually, this time you were right and you should get up at arms at this person because they are damaging. because it is damage. every random pulse of cortisol from every self-righteous message is adding to the unnecessary shitty stress levels. every increasingly tense back and forth argument is a genuinely dangerous conflict on a biological level. our brains don't know the difference. and yeah, nobody's going to have a heart attack because somebody was a jerk to them online (i hope). but we have seen what too many jerks over too long does to. and when there's waves of negativity, it doesn't matter how big or small a part each person plays, because they're still adding up together to that wave. and trans women, every single trans woman right now, is facing one hell of a fucking wave.

so... i'm sorry my misread of a situation meant that i added to that. i'm sure it will happen again, but also, i think this will serve as a reminder to me next time to shut up, at least until i've actually put in the effort to understand what's even really being discussed, under the surface or on it, in the first place.

8. name two or more things your muse can’t leave the house without.

𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚌. 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚎

    here is a small collection of tiny detail questions to ask about someone’s muse, some questions have multiple parts! feel free to add/change as you see fit <3 potentially nsfw. if a multi, please specify the muse!!

Here's three things that she can't go outside without:

1: Her headphones. Of course, she's almost always wearing them as is, but her headphones are her way of blocking out a lot of the world's noise. She's so accustomed to wearing them they are practically a part of her body at this point. If she didn't have them on, she would probably get sensory overloaded to some extent, especially if she has to get on a subway.

2: Her phone. Obvious thing but yeah, her phone is a vital part of her stuff that she needs to have on her. Not only is it her way of listening to music, whether it's through spotify or youtube music, it's just her primary way of communication through text, since she's not a particularly big fan of phone calls, unless it's Sojiro. Plus if she's ever stranded or just upset, she can get help.

3: Her wallet. Can't go home without your wallet! It has her id, train pass, etc etc. She wouldn't really be able to get anywhere without it. It's also where, after she reconciled her feelings regarding her mother's death, where she has a picture of them together. It's a way to remind her that her mom did love her, despite her obsession with work taking over sometimes.

Hi Punemy. I just found one of your reboots on an It's a Wonderful Life post. And I was wondering how you're getting by now? I'm in a big corpo job and it doesn't pay enough to buy property too and I hit burnout. So I'm trying to figure out what people do to be happy out of traditionally "successful" roles and still. yknow. survive.

Hi friend. I'm so glad you reached out to me. I've... been having a lot of thoughts about this, so you'll see a rambling answer underneath the cut, because you're basically getting a distillation of my panicked 3am journaling.

In short: I wish I could tell you that I'm doing great or that I figured out the secret, because trust me, if I knew the secret I would share it so fast.

I thought I had my dream job when I landed an immigration lawyer position, except it burnt me out so badly I'm still traumatized from it, nearly two years later. Then I thought I landed my dream job in early 2023, when I got a great corporate counsel position with excellent pay and benefits... only to be forced out thanks to corporate nepotism and an industry I just... didn't fit in with.

I'm in therapy now, to deal with both of those things — both of those things and the burnout, but that's hand in fucked up hand, isn't it?

So you know what, I'm... not doing great.

And I think that's okay.

I'm so sorry to hear that you've burnt out. It's... hard. Incredibly hard. Therapy has helped me, and I think it would help anyone who has access to it — I can't recommend telehealth highly enough. The service I use right now is Sondermind, and it seems to be even more robust than my health insurance's website, for sure.

Beyond that...? Take it slow. If there's one thing I've learned since getting my license to practice law and bouncing from shitty firm to shitty firm, it's that I owe my employers only as much work as they pay me for. Nothing more and nothing less. And if I'm not finding joy in the work that I'm doing — be it the research or the culture — then it's time for me to bounce. I don't expect I'll ever own property, not unless my parents suddenly decide to retire back to India and leave me the house, and... that's okay. It has to be okay. It has to be okay because there are other things I can spend my money on. It has to be okay because the rainy day fund to sustain me while I'm unemployed is more important that the mortgage and the responsibilities I don't think I'm ready for. Maybe I'll be ready one day, or maybe I'll be fine in my tiny flat with my roommate and my collection of fountain pens.

Find joy in the world outside work. If you're paid for a 40-hour workweek, don't do more than that. Don't. Do, however, seek out friends. Go to museums and play silly games. Listen to music. Pick up a hobby. Go to therapy. Redefine what "success" means to you — when are you at your happiest?

I've been incredibly lucky to have a community of friends and family. I hope, truly and sincerely hope, that you also have a community of friends, Anonymous Friend. I hope you can lean on them when you need them. I hope they hold you up on your worst days and celebrate you on your best. Because there is no greater joy than having that community.

As for surviving outside of high-paying corporate jobs, honestly... I'm gonna say the cliché thing, which is that it's time for all of us to redefine survival. If we live in an era where owning property is no longer a part of our futures, then so be it. Tiny apartments it is — that doesn't mean you don't deserve to own your space for however long you live in it. Let every little joy build up on itself. Join a summer reading program and listen to audiobooks on your way to work, or call up your best friend on your way home. Take the time to look for work in fields you enjoy. Will you potentially take a pay cut? Maybe. But surviving on a smaller scale than what our parents had may just be what we have to do — and that's okay too. Maybe we'll make the world a better place for us down the line, but right now, we cling to what we have and survive.

Also, seriously, go to therapy. Can't recommend that enough.

I wish you well, friend. May you find strength and kindness in the many many years to come. And when it comes to burnout or bad days, remember, this too shall pass. And so too shall you, through it all.

It Begins...

"I've applied for a school in the Falklands", Sara tells me. ".... Huh!? Oh? Right... OK", this comes as a bit of a shock to me, we've previously spoken about the possibility of us returning back up north, where the quality of life is better than where we currently are, just outside of 2023's Worst Place To Live, Luton, and where the cost of living is significantly cheaper, but at the same time, I was also somewhat unsurprised, Sara has always had itchy feet (I'm talking about a desire to travel, not a long undiagnosed skin condition) and was ready for a new school to teach at.

We'd previously visited an island with a small population for her to attend an interview weekend, where partners were also invited, and please, do read the next bit in air-quotes, with as much sarcasm as you can muster, "but partners aren't being interviewed, just invited so they can get a feel for the island", sure Jan... and just days before the 2020 COVID-19 lockdown measures were introduced in the UK, we visited the tiny island of Sark in the Channel Islands.

Not only is Sark a tiny island, it also has a tiny population of about 500 people, where people are outnumbered by the sheep, and the coastline is frequented by funny looking black and white birds (just remember this information for later) as puffins can be spotted on the sheer coastal edges of the island in Spring.

During our time on Sark, when Sara wasn't preparing a lesson to give to her potential future class, we went up and down their bustling high street, avoiding the local traffic of tractors, horse and carts and bicycles...there are no cars allowed on Sark (despite how much my friend Victoria keeps suggesting that if you squint, you could mistake a sports car for a small tractor), not that you would need a car given the size of the island! We also had a lovely curry at the seigneur's home with the other candidates, headteacher of the school and his wife, and a few local residents, including the locum GP, who I may have landed in hot water when I was "absolutely not being interviewed" by the island's vicar and his wife.

The current seigneur of Sark is the delightful Christopher Beaumont, the 23rd person to take up the mantle, a former officer in the British Army, but despite his highfalutin sounding status is down to earth, and happy to chat away with visitors to his beautiful gardens, especially about his newly installed solar panels and electric tractor (the first of it's kind on Sark!)

Sadly, it wasn't to be for our dream of a few quiet years on Sark, and we returned to empty streets, loo roll shortages and queues outside supermarkets, as we took our singular government approved walk of the day. Life moved on, just day after day after sodding day. The more things changed, the more things stayed the same.

There were other attempts to move to Sark, the teacher who did get the job decided it wasn't for them and returned to mainland UK. I guess choosing small island life requires a certain kind of hardiness, pig headedness and a desire to be part of a small community who will know everything about you after a certain amount of time. We have those qualities (we hope), but again, the job was offered to another applicant.

So after a couple of attempts of moving to one small island, and it not being successful, I pessimistically assumed it would be the same here, Sara would go for the interview, impress the panel, but there would just be that one sodding person with a smidge more experience, who would get the job and leave us stuck on rainy Brexit island.

The big day came, Sara set off to London for the interview, you see, whilst for Sark they flew us to Guernsey and then put us on the cute little ferry to the small island, the Falklands is a 16 hour flight across the Atlantic, and a bit far to go for an interview, so the interview panel came to the UK, at Falkland House, the Falkland Islands London address, where you can visit to discuss all manner of things, so long as those questions are about the Falkland Islands. Of course, things didn't go smoothly, as her tube decided to stop in the middle of a tunnel between stations, unable to contact the office to say she was delayed as this was a line that did not yet have 4G signal installed throughout, but she did make her interview in the nick of time, and on exit was told she'd hear back within a week.

At this point my pessimism had kicked in. They had clearly given the job to someone else, and we were doomed for another year in the London commuter belt. Another year of eating fish fingers whilst watching Pointless. Another year of breathing in the polluted air from the main road we lived next to. Another year of...

"ring ring¹"... Sara's phone is ringing, it's a +500 number from The Falkland Islands... I listen in...

"Hi, is that Sara?", asks the caller, she confirms, and the voice on the other end replies, "Sorry about the delay in getting back to you, when we arrived we needed to have a week to rest from the exhaustion of flying and to have a think about the candidates we saw. We were really impressed with your"... I could sense the "but", again, I'm a pessimist by nature... "and we'd like to offer you the position of class teacher at the Infant and Junior School starting in September" - for once, my natural glass half empty, cheery outlook on life, was unfounded.

I went to Tesco to get cake to celebrate the news, although the choices were rubbish and I came back with mini Millionaires Shortbread bites rather than actual cake, but now we had to let it sink in that we were going to have a very big journey ahead of us.

What follows is that journey²...

¹it didn't actually go "ring ring", we're millennials and as such our phones are permanently on mute, and just went "vvvvvvb vvvvvvb" but that would have looked like a cat walked across my keyboard if I'd put that.

²It's worth noting up to now, this has mostly been about Sara's journey, but from hereon this will be a shared journey

Top Attractions That You Have To Experience In Your Tour To Vietnam

In fact if you allow this group habit continue, will probably kill your class. Ho Chi Minh City could be the largest area, and is well know for being crowded getting plenty in order to complete. For my own office I have 17 employees, each operating different directions but all basically headed for the same destination. Top Bến Tre AZ News I am unable to interfere with their travels but must move gracefully through them. Throughout business, students, vendors, other businesses, obstacles and competitors often happens to the road in front of myself. I have many choices: collide with them head on, turn down a side street, have a detour, prevent them altogether merely flow these. Tin Top Bến Tre AZ News How well I adjust my dance to this chaos controls my future success. View More: topbentreaz.com - Top Ben Tre AZ Reviewed by Team Leader in Top Ben Tre AZ: TRẦN THỊ TRÚC QUỲNH - Tran Thi Truc Quynh And let's go further back throughout the past and explore the city's colonial aptitude. The Notre Dame Cathedral was built by the french and designed in 1880. This two bell-tower building could easily keep Europe and pass for a pure European structure. Several other structures could perhaps pass as Western buildings as well, namely that old Post Office, Continental Hotel, the Opera House and City Community hall. And discover the city's Chinese connection at Cholon. And by having an oriental ignore. Do so on a cyclo. Feel the lively oriental atmosphere much better markets and shops among the area. Included is a visit to the Cantonese Thien Hau Pagoda. But Hue is just famous for its vegetarian delicacies. It also has a tradition of excellent cuisine across all food types. For a reasonable sum a feast may be had. Whether you eat perched on a tiny stool on the pavement quite possibly a restaurant the food will be delicious.

View More: topbentreaz.com - Top Ben Tre AZ Reviewed by Team Leader in Top Ben Tre AZ: TRẦN THỊ TRÚC QUỲNH - Tran Thi Truc Quynh You can get yourself a taste of every lifestyle when you've planned a trip to Southern Vietnam. Fields tinged with miles of rice paddy's, beaches holding big amounts of visitors and crystal clear water, and the fast-paced life of Ho Chi Minh City. South Vietnam travel has emerged as South Asia's premier destination.The hustle and bustle of Ho Chi Minh Town is the site to behold. If title Ho Chi Minh Town isn't ringing a bell, it was formerly known as Saigon. Most locals still refer to barefoot by its original name rather than the new one implemented by government officers. Thousands of buildings line every square in. of possible living space. Congestion does not come to describe the volume of people who are pleased to call Ho Chi Minh Town their home. As one among the main partners at the Web Success Team, I am running just a little experiment. I'm presently traveling around Southeast Asia for 3 weeks technically on vacation but just about. I still to make certain of my clients calls for. Even though I've a support system classes . Los Angeles, my clients still in order to be know that an intruder is the leader of the operation. Here below is a small a part of a diary I am keeping. How will any of us finish strong in 2009 and annually? We have to be fit physically, mentally and psychologically. I believe there is very little failure except in let go and frequently give up because of the lack of fitness 1 of these areas. Since body, soul and spirit are intimately intertwined and function as one, the associated with fitness 1 area can paralyze and hinder us from ever fulfilling our maximum potential in serving God's motivation. Boats visit to the large chamber following the cave that applied by its northern border Vietnamese within the American War as a hospital and munitions save. It also has engravings from the Champa because they came from occupied the cave involving 9th and 10th hundred years. The cave's status as Quang Binh Province's major tourist attraction is now under threats. In April 2009, a team of British cavers discovered Son Dong Cave. Some 200m high, 140m wide and also 5km long, Son Doong is reputed to really be the largest cave not just in Vietnam, but Ben Tre City about the. A six-hour walk among the Ho Chi Minh Trail, the cave is currently inaccessible to tourists. If you a victim of an offense in the developing Asian countries, there is not much help provided. In fact, the cops can be just as corrupt due to the fact criminals. Throughout Phnom Penh, Cambodia, Having been visiting an Australian who lives there permanently. She'd just got a car and was placing things in a test run. She saw some locals decrease the wrong direction of something like a one way street and decided for you to do the precise same. Immediately she was stopped by the authorities. According to protocol, she ended up being go into the police station and obtain US$25 fine for breaking the highway rules. She waved a US$10 note to the policeman, developed it, returned to his car, and let her go about her business. The police in Cambodia rely on bribes and corruption provide food within their families, considering wages they get do not go very far. I we do hope you can discover why taking attendance is amongst my favorite parts of English character. It's also a necessity for the school, always keep your garden track of a students. Let a student take attendance for you- maybe they'll mark friends with them "present" is actually actually skipping class! Come about with personalized ideas flip taking attendance in your ESL class into a handy and enjoyable exercise as compared to an administrative burden.

Vietnam is an amazing tourist destination with so many fabulous sites and excellent cities to delve into. However, one of the more beautiful, more historically significant, but less known cities to travel to is Hue. Believe it or not, but the city was once more important that Saigon and Hanoi, considering was a capital for the Nguyen for more than 150 years. Today, most of is former glories can nevertheless be seen. The body primarily feeds on air, water & food. The mind on wisdom, knowledge and expertise. The emotions on relationships (with God, others and self). If you change your mind about crossing the street follow this advice: Activity . change your head after getting down to cross if at all possible most likely stop. Do not STEP Spinal! Turn around and wait an additional or pair. Then proceed for you to the curb or side of the fishing line. The third of the UNESCO World Heritage Sites was Vietnam's "Window with a World" prior to a arrival of this French. Ships from all around world called on this port Ben Tre City to trade with each other and the inhabitants of HoiAn. The Chinese, Japanese, Dutch, Portuguese, Spanish and French traders all influenced life in HoiAn. Extra than others - china and Japanese merchants contributions can definitely seen the actual world well preserved architecture in the ancient small town. The most famous landmark in HoiAn is the "Japanese Bridge" with its Buddhist Pagoda on either side. We employs what bad about physical conditioning to understand mental and emotional fitness better on the spiritual level. While the rules & boundaries between the physical (seen) and spiritual (unseen) in a position to different, the principles are parallel generally there is much we can learn from that. One from the tragedies of America individuals don't discuss much is it's prison population: the states has top incarceration rate in the planet. It has less than 5% of the earth's population but over 23% of the world's incarcerated people- four times the world average. America's prisons are full of men and women whose lives have been virtually ruined because of some small, victimless crime they committed. Is that freedom? Driving defensively can keep lives. Tin Top Ben Tre AZ 247 Consider taking a few extra moments to organize your travel time. Look at various routes or check out waiting for traffic to subside. Taking an a fixation your a person's driving habits and with these tips may well ease traffic related stress and turn your drive time within a more positive experience. Life's too short to occasion and stress on transportation. Take a deep breath and enjoy your own. The islands are really not set up for mass tourism until now. The local authorities have ambitious development plans for Con Dao, together with a Six Senses hideaway currently is under construction, but part of the station and bicyles de rigueur, this is rural Vietnam at its truest. Tin tong hop Top Ben Tre AZ Place on your hiking boots and hang across Con Dao National Park, passing derelict colonial buildings and deserted fruit plantations. Might be fortunate enough to spot a Con Dao Monkey or a Black Squirrel, both of which are endemic to the city. I cringe when I hear Americans refer into the Vietnamese as "those commies," as if everyone was playing around in blue suits. Vietnamese people are exactly like everyone else: most pros couldn't care less about politics. They just want a job, food on the table, together with iPhone. Efficiently will bitch about their government if given a chance, similar to Americans. The sheer number of people which actually ultimately Communist Party is extremely tiny number, even small compared to the number of people in Vietnam's Cao Dai religion.

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Shooting war: Gaza’s visual storytellers under ‘blatant’ attack

Yaser Murtaja and Roshdi Sarraj were friends who shared a love of making films about life in Gaza. In 2012, they set up their own production company, Ain Media – its motto: “Deeper than you see” – with just one camera.

Little did the pair of visual poets know that their passion would cost them their lives.

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Dabiri-Erewa warns Nigerians against irregular migration, Especially to Canada

The Nigerians in Diaspora Commission (NiDCOM), Abike Dabiri-Erewa, has urged Nigerians travelling abroad to go legitimately and with proper documentation

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Murtaja was first to be killed, targeted by a sniper while documenting the Great March of Return in 2018, a protest in which Palestinian protesters demanded they be allowed to return to the lands their families had been displaced from in 1948 with the founding of Israel. Sarraj died last year shortly after Israel launched its war on Gaza when his house was hit by two rockets. He was eating breakfast at the time, says his widow, Shrouq Aila, an investigative journalist and producer.

Ain Media is also mourning videographer Ibrahim Lafi, 21, killed under heavy shelling near the Beit Hanoon, or Erez, crossing on the Gaza-Israel border at the start of the war. Two others – Haitham Abdulwaheed, 25, and Nidal Wahidi, 33 – are currently missing.

“It’s really heavy on the heart to feel your profession is a threat,” Aila says. There is no time, she says, to grieve under the attacks.

The deaths and disappearances of the Ain Media photographers underscore the devastating ways in which visual journalists in Gaza have been hit as they work to cover the war while under fire, with limited food and water, and during power cuts and communications blackouts. More journalists have been killed in the current fighting than in any war over the past three decades. But veteran visual journalists say their peers have been particularly targeted. And while all wars are dangerous, Israel’s assault on Gaza has felt different, they say.

For the past four months, Gaza’s photographers, videographers and camera operators have acted as the eyes of the world, ensuring the civilian catastrophe unfolding in the enclave is not forgotten. With Israel mostly barring entry into the strip for foreign journalists, Gaza’s reporters have often been the only ones to offer reporting on the crisis.

The conflict has seen a new generation of talent emerge, some professionals with big name outfits, others working freelance, all potentially a click away from losing everything.

They’ve captured aerial views of rubble-strewn moonscapes and freezing tent camps; wide angle images of the people of Gaza leaving their homes behind, of countless bodies in mass graves and of crowds jostling for food with pans held aloft; mid-shots of premature babies at al-Shifa Hospital deprived of incubators, their tiny bodies squirming under fluorescent lighting; and close-ups of mothers grieving their dead children.

Names like Motaz Azaiza, the photojournalist who has come to personify the power of digital activism, have burst from nowhere as the humanity of their work moves millions. Azaiza now has more followers on Instagram than US President Joe Biden.

Occasionally, in a tragic twist, Gaza’s visual journalists have themselves become the story. Al Jazeera camera operator Samer Abudaqa, 45, was left to bleed out for five hours just a couple of kilometres away from the nearest hospital after an Israeli drone strike. According to witnesses, Israeli forces denied permission to ambulances and medical staff to reach Abudaqa, who died.

Al Jazeera’s Gaza bureau chief, Wael Dahdouh, survived that attack but in January lost his 27-year-old son, cameraman Hamza Dahdouh, in an Israeli bombing – the fifth member of his family to be killed in the latest Gaza war.

The Israeli army has told international news agencies that it cannot guarantee the safety of journalists operating in the strip. Sherif Mansour, Middle East and North Africa coordinator at the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), says he sees a “deadly pattern” of assaults, detention and harassment.

As of January 20, the CPJ reported 83 journalists and media workers killed since the war began on October 7. Of these, at least 22 were photographers, videographers and camera operators.

Wielding a camera in conflicts has always been a dangerous occupation. Visual journalists are close to the action, easily identified by their equipment and at constant risk of beaming out their location. Gaza has accelerated a trend already seen in Syria, Libya and Ukraine – the people capturing vital images of conflict under fire from hostile forces.

“They were actively targeted before, but it just wasn’t as blatant as this,” says Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist Greg Marinovich, who spent 30 years covering conflicts around the globe and now teaches visual journalism at Boston University and the Harvard Summer School. He co-wrote The Bang Bang Club, a book recounting his experiences during South Africa’s apartheid era, which is viewed as a touchstone for photojournalists the world over.

“In South Africa, I’d say most of the killings were accidental or uncaring. Journalists were seen as royal game, but not entirely,” he says. “But this has changed radically, and part of that is the social media equation, this propaganda war that is being waged endlessly. And journalists are seen as a huge part of that. … You’ve got to understand that you are going to be targeted if you’re going to survive.”

The death of Reuters video journalist Issam Abdallah, 37, shelled by an Israeli tank crew as he filmed fire on the Israel-Lebanon border, is a case in point.  He and his fellow reporters from Agence France-Presse and Al Jazeera were all wearing press flak jackets, yet were fired at not once but twice as they turned their cameras on an Israeli military outpost. AFP photographer Christina Assi, 28, was severely wounded and later had her leg amputated.

“That was definitely to stop them filming and reporting even though they were clearly marked and had been there for around an hour,” Marinovich says. “Lots of people are watching for clues, so they can spot if you’re photographing. If you report something that people don’t like, you might be standing 100 metres [110 yards] from them while they’re seeing what you’re doing. That can be a very ugly situation.”

The dangers faced by Gaza’s visual journalists has been amplified by Israeli efforts to legitimise targeting them, analysts say. In November, the Israeli government alleged that several freelance photographers in Gaza who worked for major international media organisations had participated in the October 7 attacks by Hamas on southern Israel, in which nearly 1,139 people were killed and 240 taken captive. The media organisations rejected the allegations.

News shooters are driven to get as close as possible to the action, so the stakes couldn’t be higher. Aila says Ain Media’s photographers and videographers have felt safer staying in hospitals and other hubs to avoid being targeted en route to documenting casualties.

Mansour says that like other journalists, Ain Media’s workers have also faced smears. “We have identified a pattern of responses by the Israeli military to evade responsibility, calling journalists terrorists, disseminating false narratives about their association with Hamas, saying they have evidence to support that they were involved in violence. When pressed on that, they provide nothing.”

Sarraj, too, faced such accusations. An independent filmmaker, he had worked as a fixer for news organisations like Radio France and Le Monde, had taken photos for the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees and had documented human rights abuses for rights group Amnesty International.

“We were happy that international organisations refuted those claims and stood by the work that those freelancers had given,” Mansour says. “These smear campaigns have basically put people who are already in a very vulnerable and dangerous environment into imminent harm.”

In other conflict zones, you can always get out, he says. “Gaza is a 20-mile (32km) strip that’s six miles (10km) wide.

“They have no safe haven and no exit.”

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Dabiri-Erewa warns Nigerians against irregular migration, Especially to Canada

The Nigerians in Diaspora Commission (NiDCOM), Abike Dabiri-Erewa, has urged Nigerians travelling abroad to go legitimately and with proper documentation

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Am I the Asshole for exorcising the ghost my wife told me was in our house even though I told her I didn't believe he was real?

In my hometown, the belief in hauntings was widespread. While some of these tales may hold a grain of truth, others were likely fueled by bandwagon mentality and the thrill of fear in an otherwise monotonous town. As a child, the eerie atmosphere of my hometown's quiet streets sent shivers down my spine. T. The towering presence of old houses and abandoned buildings cast elongated shadows stretching into infinity. The treeline at the town's edge loomed, its tangled branches and jagged leaves giving off an ominous aura. I couldn't shake the feeling that unseen eyes were watching my every move. Although my parents insisted it was mere imagination, I couldn't shake the belief that a dark presence lingered beyond my vision. A sense of unease saturated the air, causing my skin to crawl as if plagued by a horde of tiny spiders. Whispers of spectral encounters and eerie legends circulated among the townspeople, some carrying an unsettling glimmer of authenticity. The trill of my ringtone jolted me from my work. Seeing my dad's name, I quickly answered. "Your old man's ready to retire," he announced in his gravelly voice. "I'd like you to take over the business. If you're willing." I nearly dropped the phone in surprise. Returning home to continue the family legacy was an opportunity I'd dreamed of but never expected so soon. Years had passed since I left for college, yet the magnetic pull of my hometown drew me back, fueled by a potent mix of nostalgia and duty. It was my chance to forge a life I could be proud of in a place with many memories. I shared the news with Julie that night as we cleaned up after dinner. "We could move back to my hometown," I said. "You could finally start that interior design firm you've always wanted." Julie paused, a plate still in her hands. "Leave the city?" Life in the city had its initial excitement, but as time passed, Julie and I felt trapped and isolated in our cramped apartment. We longed for a yard and a sense of community, and the corporate office where I toiled away for long hours was slowly draining my spirit. I took the dish from her and set it down. Turning her to face me, I searched her eyes. "I know it's a big change. But we could build a life there together. Focus on us and what's really important to us." Julie glanced around our cramped apartment piled high with fabric swatches and paint samples. The corners of her mouth turned up. She had reservations about leaving the city where she had built her successful business. I reassured her that her talents would be sought after in an area lacking modern design services. I had faith in her ability to make it work. "As long as I'm with you, I'm home," she said. Her embrace was answer enough. We stayed up late discussing possibilities, excitedly planning for the future. Returning to my hometown wasn't just an opportunity but a new beginning. A chance to rediscover ourselves in a place filled with memories. Together, we would start the next chapter. Our story began six years ago, back in college, at a lively party on campus. I spotted Julie amidst the bustling crowd in the frat house, laughing and surrounded by her friends. Something about the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled captivated me instantly. We hit it off immediately, and we've been inseparable since then. I knew deep down that she was the one for me. After graduation, we married and settled in the city, where Julie built her interior design business. Her talent for envisioning the potential of spaces and breathing new life into dull environments was genuinely remarkable. Her passion and creativity drew me to her in the first place, and I couldn't be prouder of her. The drive back to my hometown seemed longer than I remembered. As we entered the town limits, a flood of memories rushed over me, filling my mind with nostalgia. The streets, once vibrant with children's laughter and the hum of daily life, now seemed hushed, as if they held their breath in anticipation of our return. Weathered by time, the old buildings stood as silent witnesses, their aged facades hinting at the stories of bygone eras. Julie peacefully dozed off in the passenger seat beside me, her head gently resting against the window. As I gazed at her serene, sleeping face, a wave of love washed over me, reminding me how fortunate I was to have her by my side, willing to embark on this new chapter with me. In the heart of our cozy town, we uncovered our new haven, a place brimming with potential. Unlike the cramped city dwellings, this house allowed Julie to unleash her creative talents. A designated corner eagerly awaited her skilled hands to breathe new life into furniture while stacks of supplies stood ready to be transformed into artistic marvels. It represented a refreshing departure from urban life's chaotic hustle and bustle. Despite our remote location, the power of time and the boundless internet bridged the gap between our small town and the wider world. This connection opened doors in our family business for Julie and me. With a few clicks and keystrokes, she could connect with clients, showcase her portfolio, and infuse her unique touch into interior design. As we settled into our new home, excitement and nervousness filled the air. The walls stood as witnesses, bearing the weight of our dreams and ambitions. Their aged surfaces seemed to whisper promises of fresh starts, inviting us to embrace the unknown. The possibilities stretched out before us like an open canvas, ready to be painted with the strokes of our determination. It was an opportunity to carve out our place in a town that had shaped us, a testament to the resilience and adaptability of small-town dreams. However, amid the thrill of new beginnings, an unsettling presence lingered. It wasn't just a figment of my childhood imagination resurfacing; it was something tangible, an unease that seeped into every nook and cranny of our new home. The house, weathered by time, groaned and creaked with each gust of wind as if the walls were exhaling a heavy sigh. Days blended into weeks, and Julie and I immersed ourselves in our respective pursuits. She wholeheartedly dove into her work, surrounded by paint swatches and fabric samples, her creative energy filling every corner of the room. Meanwhile, I devoted my time to the family business, shouldering the weight of responsibility. The demands of my job pulled me in different directions, leaving me with little time to spare for the most important person in my life. I was conscious of my shortcomings as a husband, noticing the subtle signs of neglect that had crept into our relationship. I stepped through the front door each evening to find Julie sitting motionless at the table. Her eyes remained fixed on her sketches rather than greeting me. The air hung heavy with silence. The scent of fresh paint and sawdust lingered in the air, evidence of the ongoing renovations that had consumed our lives. Renovations I had convinced myself would bring fulfillment to Julie's life when I fell short. I brewed a pot of coffee and sat across from her. "How was your day?" I asked gently. "Fine," she murmured without looking up. My enthusiasm sounded hollow, even to my own ears. Julie's half-hearted responses revealed her unhappiness. I had hoped this move would bring us closer, yet somehow, I felt her slipping away. After dinner, I retreated to my home office while Julie cleaned the kitchen alone. I stared blankly at budgets rather than joining her. The ever-growing to-do list provided a convenient excuse for my absence. I promised myself I'd address these concerns, but the ever-growing to-do list and the relentless pace of life kept pushing it further down the line, leaving it as an unfulfilled pledge, waiting to be honored. I listened to Julie's measured breathing next to me at night, knowing sleep evaded her. I longed to bridge the divide that had grown between us, but my best intentions remained unfulfilled, promises whispered into the darkness. I noticed Julie withdrawing further into herself, the light in her eyes dimming more each day. She moved through our home like a ghost, her vibrant spirit fading. I heard the truth in her silence - that the life I had brought her to was slowly crushing her. And I had no one to blame but myself. The heaviness in the air was palpable whenever I entered a room. Our once happy chatter had been replaced by the faint creak of floorboards and the scratch of my pen. The walls of this house were suffocating us. I had persuaded Julie to come here, yet I couldn't give her the one thing she needed - companionship. My wife, ever determined, sat at a makeshift desk amidst a jumble of fabric swatches, paint samples, and design magazines. Her once hopeful eyes would momentarily brighten upon my arrival, a spark of joy amidst her weariness. The toll of this endeavor was apparent in the lines etched on her face, a weariness that I couldn't ignore. I sunk into the worn-out cushions of the living room, and the weight of Julie's exhaustion hung heavily in the air. Her voice trembled with fatigue and vulnerability as she exhaled, her words filled with resignation. "I don't know how much longer I can keep going like this," she confessed, her gaze fixed on a distant point beyond the window. "Spending every day alone in this house has been so hard." A surge of guilt coursed through me like an electric shock, snapping me out of my self-absorbed state. The realization hit me like a heavy blow, making me comprehend that I had become so consumed by my own responsibilities and work that I didn't grasp the depth of Julie's isolation and the scale of her struggles. "I'm sorry," I murmured, my voice filled with sincerity and remorse. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Julie paused, her eyes uncertain, before sharing an unexpected truth. "You know, it's not completely lonely," she whispered softly, barely audible. "There's a ghost in the house. He goes by the name of Adam." Initially, I couldn't help but chuckle, assuming it was a playful joke to lighten the mood. However, my skepticism gradually faded as Julie shared her encounters with this otherworldly presence. The hope and joy that danced in her eyes as she spoke were undeniable, a glimpse of a spark that had been absent from her for weeks. And so, I embraced her story. "How did you find out his name?" I asked, my curiosity piqued as I tried to suppress a smile. "I asked him," she replied, rolling her eyes at my incredulous expression as if I were the one being ridiculous. "He just introduced himself?" I glanced around the room, half-expecting a response from the empty air. "Hey, Adam. Thanks for keeping my wife company. I'll take it from here." I pulled her close and kissed her with a playful smile, silently conveying my understanding and support. I was about to suggest that we head upstairs to let the night wash away our worries when breaking glass resounded from the other side of the house. Julie playfully nudged me away, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "I guess he doesn't appreciate being dismissed. He's quite the cowboy," she quipped, her voice filled with amusement and affection. Awkwardly, I smiled and chuckled, unsettled by the absurdity of everything yet ready to reaffirm my commitment to the woman I loved. I wanted to ensure she knew she was loved and secure in our home. Despite my doubts and skepticism, I decided to support my wife in her connection with the ghost that had taken up residence in our home. The idea of her feeling frightened or lonely in our new house deeply unsettled me. However, when I gathered the courage to suggest removing the ghost, she became visibly upset. Her voice trembled with emotion as she pleaded with me not to proceed. In her tearful plea, she insisted that Adam, the ghost, understood her like no one else, offering solace during her otherwise solitary days. While the idea of ghosts seemed implausible, I couldn't ignore the genuine glow illuminating her face as she spoke of their conversations or how her body eased in Adam's company. Conflicting emotions swirled inside me, caught between reason and the urge to safeguard her newfound joy. "He's the only one who listens to me," she sobbed, tears welling in her eyes. "He's the only one who understands." At that moment, I had to face the undeniable truth. The way her eyes sparkled and the passion that filled her voice when she spoke of our spectral visitor, it was clear that Adam held a special place in her heart. The idea of tearing him away from her, leaving her alone in this unfamiliar place once again, was a burden I couldn't bear. "The only one?" I asked, hurt by her words and the possibility of their truth in her eyes. Did I not listen or understand her? She smiled sweetly. "Well, the only one here to listen most of the time." I nodded in understanding. With a heavy heart and a feeling of acceptance, I made peace with Adam's presence in our home, knowing we would be sharing it with a ghost. Little did I realize that this choice was just the start of a profound sequence of events, an unfolding chain reaction that would forever reshape our lives. In the following days, I struggled to dismiss the idea that my wife, Julie, spent her time conversing with a ghost. I convinced myself it was a product of her imagination, a way to cope. However, no matter how much I tried to push it away, feelings of envy and frustration took hold, growing into a persistent ache. I was caught in a whirlwind of emotions, unable to understand why Julie chose a ghost over her living partner. Yet, deep down, I recognized Adam's significance in her life, the comfort and companionship he seemed to provide. Reluctantly, I decided to let him stay, allowing this ghost to coexist with us. I even attempted to befriend him, treating him like an elusive roommate. Gradually, I sensed Adam's presence around us, like a fleeting breeze that stirred the air, his intangible essence lingering in the corners of our home. And with each passing day, I couldn't help but notice the comfort and contentment that emanated from Julie when he was near. The situation was perplexing, stirring up a mix of emotions within me. On the one hand, seeing Julie genuinely happy brought relief, knowing that she had discovered a source of comfort in this unusual bond. However, unease settled in, a silent concern deep within my heart. I couldn't help but question what this meant for our marriage and my role in her life. One afternoon, as Julie set out to run errands, I summoned the courage to confront Adam. I entered the living room, where his ghostly presence seemed most potent, and addressed the empty air with determination and vulnerability. "Listen, Adam," I began, my voice filled with authority and understanding. "I recognize the bond you share with Julie and appreciate the comfort you bring her. However, there are moments when it seems like you're pulling her away from me. But you're a ghost, and I'm her husband. I value the added perspective and insights you offer – because of you, she opened up about feeling alone. I now understand that I haven't been as available to her as I should have been. But I want to be the one she confides in and spends time with. You understand that, right? Julie is my wife." Naturally, there was no response, only a haunting silence that permeated the empty room as if mocking my attempt to communicate with a ghost. I couldn't help but bristle with a sense of foolishness, speaking into thin air, expecting a reply from a spectral being. Yet, beneath the surface, a growing annoyance and frustration simmered within me. How dare this ghost think it was too superior to acknowledge me? With a sigh, I shook my head, disbelief and irritation coursing through my veins. This situation had tested the limits of reason and patience. But even in the face of such absurdity, my determination to regain Julie's attention and reconnect with her on a deeper level remained unwavering. As the days passed, Julie's attachment to Adam grew, consuming more and more of her time and attention. I silently watched, growing frustrated, as she dedicated increasing energy to conversing with him. Her laughter echoed like a secret melody; their shared dreams whispered into the air. Each day, a sense of alienation took hold within the confines of our home. However, one night, a shift in the air signaled an unexpected turn of events. After a day spent decorating and organizing, Julie retired to bed earlier than usual. Meanwhile, I remained awake, engrossed in a book, attempting to drown out the symphony of creaks and groans that filled our aging house. Suddenly, a bone-chilling coldness coursed through me, cutting through the layers of my being. It wasn't a mere draft-induced shiver but something more profound and primal. Raising my eyes from the pages, I saw Adam standing in the doorway, his gaze fixed upon me. I froze, my mind unable to comprehend the impossible figure before me. Adam wasn't a frail, translucent specter. Instead, he stood before me as a rugged, handsome cowboy in his prime, radiating a raw magnetism. His muscular build and rugged good looks spoke of a life spent toiling under the sun. He emitted a natural, commanding energy that seemed to electrify the air. My throat went dry, and my heartbeat deafened me. I opened my mouth to cry out, but only a strangled gasp escaped. This couldn't be real. Had my mind finally snapped under the strain of jealousy? But every detail - from the creases on his weathered hands to the faded blue of his denim shirt - spoke to his undeniable, tangible presence. Adam's piercing eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that shook me. An onslaught of questions flooded my mind, threatening to rupture the fragile dam separating reality from madness. How could he manifest so solidly? What did he want? And why now, after all this time, beyond the veil? The room appeared to tilt and spin around me. I dug my fingers into the arms of the chair, clinging to it like an anchor in a storm-tossed sea. My knuckles turned white, yet I barely registered the pain consumed by the maelstrom of shock and disbelief swirling within me. After what felt like an eternity, Adam offered a cryptic smile before evaporating into the ceiling, leaving behind a deafening silence. I stared at the space he had occupied, half-expecting him to reappear. The encounter had unfolded in mere moments, leaving me reeling, casting uncertainty into everything I thought I knew. "What the fuck was that?" I muttered under my breath, the words escaping on an unsteady breath. Deep down, a part of me resisted accepting the truth that threatened to unravel my understanding of the world. Julie's voice floated down from the upper floors as I tried to process the inexplicable encounter. Whispers that carried the weight of secrets and intimacy. Intrigued and filled with curiosity and trepidation, I tiptoed up the stairs, my heart pounding. Cautiously, I peered into our bedroom, where Julie sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed on the corner where Adam had vanished. Unable to contain my curiosity, I gathered my courage and entered the room. "Are you alright?" I asked, my voice a mix of concern and annoyance. Julie turned to face me, her eyes shimmering with an unusual glow, reflecting a connection that transcended the realm of the living. "Adam was sharing a story with me," she replied, her voice tinged with excitement and a touch of longing. I couldn't help but notice how she bit her bottom lip, a subtle gesture that usually accompanied the steamy parts of her beloved romance novels. A pang of jealousy shot through me, threatening to unravel the understanding I had tried to maintain. However, as I observed Julie, I saw the joy and comfort radiating from her. Read the full article