▶️ 🏴1ER MAI RÉVOLUTIONNAIRE A BRUXELLES : RETOUR VIDÉO 🚩📺
Nous étions plus de 3000 ce 1er mai à Bruxelles à l’Appel de l’Alliance du 1er Mai Révolutionnaire ! Le succès de cette nouvelle édition réaffirme la nécessité de notre projet : celui de construire une alliance solide, internationaliste et révolutionnaire face au capitalisme, au colonialisme et au patriarcat.
ABATTONS L’IMPERIALISME, CONSTRUISONS LA SOLIDARITÉ INTERNATIONALE
FREE PALESTINE FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA ! …
À l’année prochaine 💣
🇬🇧 REVOLUTIONARY MAY 1 IN BRUSSELS: VIDEO REPORT
There were more than 3,000 of us this May 1st in Brussels at the Call of the Revolutionary May 1st Alliance! The success of this new edition reaffirms the necessity of our project: that of building a solid, internationalist and revolutionary alliance in the face of capitalism, colonialism and patriarchy.
I've been doing daily writing prompts the last few days, trying to get back to feeling like I can write and that I have things to say. I don't know that I'll post them all here, but we'll see. I only require five minutes from myself for this, so these are tiny and not necessarily complete or edited at all. Some may be fiction bits, some more personal or journal styled things. Whatever I come up with from the prompt is what it is.
This prompt was from A Writer's Book of Days for May 1st.
I feel as though there’s some event horizon looming that’s going to be the final death knell in every friendship I have. That I have to accept dancing along this edge and not tipping too far over into how I feel in order to keep people I haven’t earned in my life. How do you earn people? How do you deserve someone’s friendship? For so many friendship seems easy and casual, but I’ve never figured out how to do it just right.
I’m too needy, or feel disrespected too easily, or something is just fundamentally wrong with me that leaves me on the edge–the fringe friend that no one has to stop and consider too hard. I’ll cling on and do whatever I’m asked in order to avoid tipping over that ledge and back into the depths of loneliness.
Already I’m studying how to be lonely again. I’m burying myself in book after book, page after page, character after character in order to have some kind of voices surround me. It’s tough to feel like you’re still stuck in that high school cafeteria sitting alone at lunch with your novel when you’re in your forties.
I remember a school dance back in those school days where some girls that I thought of as friends told me that the guy I had a crush on at the time wanted to dance with me. Of course, as one could expect, when I went and found him to ask he didn’t and was only confused and disgusted. If someone were to ask me now why I don’t reach out to have people do things with me that's one of many moments I can point at. In that same high school cafeteria where I sat alone with my book during the day, though the lights were dimmed that night for the dance and music echoed loudly from the crowded gym on the other side of the wall, there was another edge for me to slip from.
Sometimes it’s hard to remember to try and hold on. Sometimes it’s hard to see the point.
Pac: Calma, right? Just so calma, calma, calma. Wait, what does this button do? [Gifts Fit a dandelion, pretending like he doesn't know]
Fit: OH, what? For me? Where did you find this?
Pac: You know, I just found it right next to a bush! [Laughs]
Fit: Oh, wow! No, thank you, obrigado, I love it! This is great.
Pac: You're welcome! De nada, de nada.
Fit: You know what? I love it so much, I'm gonna eat it.
Pac: [Laughing] Wait, what? Can you eat flowers here?
Fit: Yeah, that's right! Here, try it!
Pac: I want to try it. [Takes the dandelion Fit gave him] Ok, thank you. How can I eat those? Do I– oh. [He eats it] Mmm! Almost better- like Pão De Queijo.
Wolves joining wasn’t out of the ordinary, not even close. Even Lavender’s own mom, a now deceased wolf named Vulpine, had been a loner before she found Bear and joined his pack.
No, what truly was unusual was the wolf’s appearance. He had blue stripes that covered him, a veneer of pale night that contrasted the rather plain grey underneath. But his stripes weren’t the truly remarkable thing about him, instead it was his hazy purple and blue, pupil-less three eyes.
His name was odd to her as well, it almost didn’t fit on her tongue and reminded her of Serenity, one of her packmates. Closure, she thinks that’s what it was.
Everything about him honestly seemed charming to her, despite his oddness. Closure’s presence almost made her forget about how wolves around their territory had started disappearing or even how antsy her father, Bear, had become in reaction to it.
Closure was gentle, kind, even humble. He told stories of his home, about how his eyes were a common trait there, two eyes being seen as the true oddity. He also talked about how under every full moon, a pup would be born with a coat and markings unlike any other.
It almost reminded Lavender of stories her parents told her about Moon, how wolves he took a liking to could walk into the Dreamlands and come out with new coats, patterns, claws, and eyes. Washed anew under their alpha’s grace and kindness.
When she told Closure, he had laughed, but never explained why. To her, he was a child of Moon himself, just like Winter was. Just like what she once thought Serenity, the beta’s oldest daughter, had been.
Again, he had laughed, but now explained. One of his mothers had been of the Dreamlands, walking in it nightly, but it was common among his pack. Many left the Waking, dancing among lunar folk, selling the Dreaming items and wares. It was simply a way of life for him. A normal thing.
Closure then pointed to Serenity and Sunset, saying that they too had been children of the Dreaming. Marked in their paws and pelts, forever a reminder of where their parents once roamed.
Lavender couldn’t help but feel even more mesmerized, the new wolf spinning another tale of Moon Marked wolves and their descendants, how the abilities and markings carried down and down until they turned near invisible. But then again, everyone had the ability to be the Dreaming, only few truly mastered it.