Sigh!!

How Facebook secretly collects your information even if you haven't signed up Facebook can still access your personal information by making "Shadow Profiles" using data that has been collected from third-party providers and other resources.

Nobody is safe.

Instagram friend suggestions freak me out. No idea how they come up if all my fb data is deleted. 😬

I live my life in widening circles By Rainer Maria Rilke I live my life in widening circles that reach out across the world. I may not ever complete the last one, but I give myself to it. I circle around God, that primordial tower. I have been circling for thousands of years, and I still don't know: am I a falcon, a storm, or a great song?

I live my life in widening circles
that reach out across the world.
I may not ever complete the last one, but I give myself to it.

I circle around God, that primordial tower.
I have been circling for thousands of years, and I still don't know: am I a falcon, a storm, or a great song?
#Poetry 💙📚👀

There is something magical about all those designs. I would definitely making at least one this year. 😁

Just checked out their designs. Everything is so beautiful 🥹 converting them to socks is also a brilliant idea.

That is the sad part. Even when people want to help, I know tlhow much they are also struggling.

♥️

Everything is so difficult 💔

This is gorgeous 😍 I haven't tried making colourwork mitts. This one looks so appealing even if I have no use for them 😂

I hope I would find at least some buyers. That is also one big task.

YES!! I cannot survive otherwise. 😁

I am thinking about the health of my electric fans more than my health these days. That is how much worse my financial anxiety is these days. I will have to sell my socks for peanuts 😭 #pwme

So much variety is there. I am casting on all of my needles all the time until I have no needles left. 😂

i know i'm a woman because i have do everything literally all the time and if i don't do it then it doesn't get done because i regularly experience the misogyny of weaponized incompetence aimed at me.

Our Lady of the Garden Pádraig Ó Tuama i.m. Paula Merwin All this time, I felt like I had to describe the things I did, and what was done to me, how I had to wander a strange world for years, needing to be busy, sleeping in strange beds, searching through cities for chapels to weep in, learning the stitches that keep a ripped heart together for a while, when what I really need to say is that it rained all night and morning, and the drops were a percussion on the trees, and after the sun rose, I saw an insect land on the railing and take shelter, and a bird drank from a leaf. Wild pigs exploded from the bushes where they'd hid, and the sage in the bowl smelt of memory and musk. A toad sat-still as any god-on the wet stone.

All this time, I felt like I had to describe
the things I did, and what was done to me,
how I had to wander a strange world for years,
needing to be busy, sleeping in strange beds,
searching through cities for chapels to weep in,
-Pádraig Ó Tuama
#Poetry 💙📚👀

Lovely 😍 my current wip is the spicy socks😁

To be of use BY MARGE PIERCY The people I love the best jump into work head first without dallying in the shallows and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight. They seem to become natives of that element, the black sleek heads of seals bouncing like half-submerged balls. I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart, who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience, who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward, who do what has to be done, again and again. I want to be with people who submerge in the task, who go into the fields to harvest and work in a row and pass the bags along, who are not parlor generals and field deserters but move in a common rhythm when the food must come in or the fire be put out. The work of the world is common as mud. Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust. But the thing worth doing well done has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident. Greek amphoras for wine or oil, Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums but you know they were made to be used. The pitcher cries for water to carry and a person for work that is real.

The work of the world is common as mud.

Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.

But the thing worth doing well done has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
-BY MARGE PIERCY
#Poetry 💙📚👀

Congratulations 🥳🥳🥳

So it's been weeks since I've wanted to share the news, but the announcement only went live yesterday, and honestly of all the writing wins, this might be the biggest one for me right now.

A story of mine has made it into this gorgeous book!

#2026WritingJourney #WritingCommunity #AmWriting
💙📚 🖌️ ✍️

When the heart When the heart is cut or cracked or broken Do not clutch it Let the wound lie open Let the wind From the good old sea blow in To bathe the wound with salt And let it sting Let a stray dog lick it Let a bird lean in the hole and sing A simple song like a tiny bell And let it ring Michael Leunig (1945-)

When the heart
is cut or cracked or broken
Do not clutch it
Let the wound lie open

Let the wind
From the good old sea blow in
To bathe the wound with salt
And let it sting
-Michael Leunig
#Poetry 💙📚👀

Thank you!! That colour just makes me happy 🥰

Let’s try!

Pocket sized 160 page notebook, three-hole modified Coptic stitched, going to be finished with semi-soft cloth bound covers front and back with an open spine, and button-and-twine closure.

A pair of handknitted socks with an open lace design in bright pink on my feet

A pair of handknitted socks with an open lace design

Socks 9 of 2026 - Hedera by Cookie A
This is for a friend who lives in a humid city. I hope this fits her. I made it mercerised cotton and the lace is so open.🤞🧶🧦
#knitsky

I am housebound and I try to connect to nature by knitting or crocheting nature inspired designs. But the designs are not mine.

ELEMENTAL Why don't people leave off being lovable or thinking they are lovable, or wanting to be lovable, and be a bit elemental instead? Since man is made up of the elements fire, and rain, and air, and live loam and none of these is lovable but elemental, man is lop-sided on the side of the angels. I wish men would get back their balance among the elements and be a bit more fiery, as incapable of telling lies as fire is. I wish they'd be true to their own variation, as water is, which goes through all the stages of steam and stream and ice without losing its head. I am sick of lovable people, somehow they are a lie.

I wish men would get back their balance among the elements and be a bit more fiery, as incapable of telling lies as fire is.

I wish they'd be true to their own variation, as water is, which goes through all the stages of steam and stream and ice without losing its head.
- D.H.Lawrence
#Poetry 💙📚👀

Just a reminder that some authors offer direct sale thru webshops and the like and if you buy there around 90% of what you pay goes straight to the author AND your ebook is yours to keep no matter which app or platform you use to read it.

Authors, share your direct stores and book graphics below 👇

I loved reading this he is adorable (I have no idea about the character))!! I relate to so many of the things you wrote. Hope the adventures continue and can't wait to see all the new babies you knit up. ♥️

Grief BY BARBARA CROOKER is a river you wade in until you get to the other side. But I am here, stuck in the middle, water parting around my ankles, moving downstream over the flat rocks. I'm not able to lift a foot, move on. Instead, I'm going to stay here in the shallows with my sorrow, nurture it like a cranky baby, rock it in my arms. I don't want it to grow up, go to school, get married. It's mine. Yes, the October sunlight wraps me in its yellow shawl, and the air is sweet as a golden Tokay. On the other side, there are apples, grapes, walnuts, and the rocks are warm from the sun. But I'm going to stand here, growing colder, until every inch of my skin is numb. I can't cross over. Then you really will be gone.

Grief is a river you wade in until you get to the other side.
But I am here, stuck in the middle, water parting
around my ankles, moving downstream over the flat rocks. I'm not able to lift a foot, move on. Instead, I'm going to stay here in the shallows with my sorrow,
-Barbara Crooker #Poetry 💙📚👀

Help me find more readers on patreon (been some time since I got new members)

Even free members get access to 50+ short stories!

#ReadSky #ReaderSky #SFF #FlashFiction