A poem about equality

Random philosphical things I'll post here in Icelandic. Have fun, non-Icelandic people! Mwahahahahahaha!

What is real? What is not? Are you real? Am I? What is existence?

Well, don't worry, because I'm not answering any of those questions, I'm just asking more questions.

Love.

The Akazian government and mafia cause unimaginable misery and death, a group of people banded together to fight them.

This also contains very dark and dreadful content, not for the faint of heart.

Quattro storie, quattro protagonisti, alla ricerca dell'estremo, dove nessun altro è mai stato prima.

Parte 1: asse y• -∞ • +∞

Parte 2: asse z• Espansione • Degenerazione

CW:Talassofobia, claustrofobia, body horror

Four little stories, four protagonists seeking the extreme, where no one else has gone before.

Part 1: y-axis• -∞ • +∞

Part 2: z-axis• Expansion • Degeneration

CW:Thalassophobia, claustrophobia, light body horror

It's funny how the world looks different when you know it will be the last time you ever experience any of its qualities. We live life in the modern world as repetitive and dull as possible – we forget that we are the creation of nature. I don't think I ever really grasped that concept. We are connected to each other in ways that were never thought possible – only imagined by the most creative minds – that allows me to instantaneously speak to someone across the world and hear of disastrous miracles as they happen no matter where they happen. We, humans, man, people, beings – whatever you like to call yourself or others – have become intertwined as a race. Becoming a machine society has separated us from the truth. The truth is that we are not the world; we think we are independent of the earth and its complexity and have become the host, bestowing ourselves the privilege of altering and commanding all that belongs to nature. Wow, I sound like one of those activists who glue themselves to streets and dye rivers or destroy works of art. I am not one of them. In fact, like most people, I quite dislike those people. It may be the fact that I am walking to a place where my eyes will capture life for the last time that I may have some understanding of what those delusional people were spouting. However, I still love the things we have created and the world we have formed. I don't hate the inventions we have made to better our lives – playing video games or binging movies are or were my favourite things. We are intelligent life forms and therefore have the right to build, innovate, create and imagine. It only occurs to me now that we have lost that flame in each of us that connected us to nature – to living. Have we lost humanity? I don't know if that is the right word; humanity is too ambiguations. Humanity means many things to many different people. Some believe it entails that we as humans have the ability to sympathise or emphasise – maybe, but I have seen other forms of life show care, love and empathy – others connotate humanity to man's means of creativity, to the power of imagination. I can see how this can be thought of as something unique to our race, yet how are animals able to build dams or nests, sing songs to their potential mate, create erotic dance rituals or learn new ways of gathering food if they did not possess this 'power of creation and imagination'. To be honest, I don't know what the humanity signifies. I only had a year of philosophy an undergraduate – one of those professors, I am sure, will provide ample insight on the matter. For now, let's stick with my thoughts on the matter. When I say that we have lost what made us human, I mean the fact that we forget to live. It seems that the only people who experience the amazing privilege of being human are artists – true artists, the ones that are mimetic, feared by Plato, admired by Aristotle, prised by Romantics and studied by scholars – people who work with nature and the rich. If we take away all our gadgets, careers and material goods, we resort back to being an intellectual living life form on earth. A form of life that has the ability to reflect on their surroundings and be in awe of the complexities they are a part of – to breathe. That is humanity to me: the ability to know that you are only human. That is precisely what I am engaging in now, the art of being human. While walking to my destination, I have no gadgets, no career I am pursuing and no material obsessions. I am breathing, seeing and feeling; because I am human, I am aware of this and can reflect on it. Because all that has been made mechanical has been stripped away, I have become more entuned to my base form, resulting in all my senses (which I have taken for granted) have been intensified. That, or the realisation that I will never experience the surreal around me, has made me more aware of them. Either way, I will enjoy this. Enjoy the cold air on my skin that has formed small bumps all over, sending a tingling feeling down my body. The hairs on my arm that never made themselves conscious to me are now alive, swaging gently in each direction as if they, too, have been given sight and, like children, are eyeing everything in sight with great amazement. My feet, who were only there to carry me to my monotonous destinations, are not free. Free wonder the ground like a mole – blind but sensitive and with precise direction. Best of all is my eyes. They are truly alive – maybe for the first time since I was a child – and are able to witness life. I don't remember the precise moment my eyes became dormant; I don't even recall my age. I do, however, remember how the world seemed to be alive in everything that came into my vision. I can see life all around me, from the trees to the wind, from the clouds to the small drops of water on each leaf, from the large soaring birds to the smallest insect – all alive and all experiencing life with me. My fingers also seem sensitive; I now realise I never paid attention to the textures around me. The bark feels rugged, and the soil ruffs with every particle scratching my skin. The thing I feel most is the rope in my hands. The fibres caress my fingertips, and their plaited nature is like speed bumps whenever my hand moves over them. It makes my heart race; I can hear it beat faster and faster as my destination draws near. Having monologued to myself again – however, this time, I did not mind – I feel like a modern Wordsworth, and unlike Odin, I have gained the knowledge before the act.

An unknown entity is placed in a traffic light to observe the daily life of humanity.

Thoughts like a mm … Actually i don’t know what’s it like yet but i know it’s something more important thing for life.

right OK to me thoughts like a nuisance.because the reason is most of the time i’am overthinking about everything. really i don’t know why is it that, my thoughts like a competition. yeah.. yes i always overthinking about everything i see (ah shit what the fuck ?).

(mind is a prison) man. (don’t you understand that )

At this moment some thoughts comes to my head. it’s says about Buddha what say about mind. Always think about positive thoughts.

howeverevery time i’m tying to do that, sorry to say but i can’t do that, don’t know why is it. Anyway READERS just imagination about me. i mean how i feel about this situation ( just think about it ).

it’s makes me very uncomfortable and every time i overthink ed it’s a very strange feelings of fear. it’s like getting fear around me.

THOUGHTS ARE DANGEROUS.

YOU SHOULD HAVE TO KNOW HOW TO CONTROL THOUGHTS CAREFULLY or otherwise you end up as i’am. because it’s doesn't stop suddenly. really i don’t know how to stop that. but i’m still tying to find the way escape from this.

overthinking, is that a problem ? Yes Of Course i think it’s a big problem.

because, the point of this message is more important then what you think.

when you got a overthinking problem you can’t Focus on one thing at a present situation or at a present time. and specially sometimes you can’t control your thoughts.

most of the time in my life i feel like i stuck in one place and every day around me same things the people, the work, the environment and also me. it’s like everyday life like a circle.

IF YOUR MIND IS BETTER, LIFE IS GREAT — AVISHA RASMINDA

every time i think about this life. to me it’s sad.

Anyway let’s get to the point, my thoughts my feelings like nuisance to me.

THOUGHTS IS A MESS.

Actually the purpose of this message is , i want to share my thoughts to people how i feel about this.it’s so much ahh like i don’t know hold on i think there’s have good side of it. i mean about this. OK anyway sometimes it’s scary me.

When i see my life and thoughts in half of thoughts are sad and bad, half of it’s good. ( i thinks so )

Howsoever i’m really appreciate you.

A story that begins and ends with dancing in the rain.

It has been ten years of peace for the Union since the end of the great war with the eastern barbarian tribes, yet in the cold north of the Union's land, a new threat is looming. This time, an ambitious Lord is seeking to restore the yore pride of his kin, forcing the weakened Union into yet another unwanted war, as he ramps up the ranks of his army with thieves, murderers and mercenaries.* * *The temperature inside the forge was nearly twice as high as the one outside. A black-haired girl hammered a steel ingot into the shape of a blade. The heat of the steam was draining her stamina away, but her focus remained sharp as her sweat streamed down her face. Hit after hit, for hours, the sound of the hammering steel followed the rhythm of her breathing. Exhausted, she placed the blade into the water and wiped the sweat off her face using a drenched rag.

Why are they screaming?

Vatra dipped the rag back in the water, twisted it, and approached the window. Her mouth opened as her world shattered again into the living nightmare she had wilfully tried to forget. She bit her lips; it wasn’t a dream. The pulse of her heart rose. A cold sweat prickled her back. A mother was running, and a child was screaming. A torrent of smoke was emerging from the roof of her neighbour. Vatra’s eyes blinked. The mother lay on the ground, a spear through her back. A torch circled in the air and landed on the roof of her workshop. In the distance, a man wearing a banner well known to the world…

Fateless is a philosophical medieval dark low fantasy centered on war, militaristic campaigns and geopolitical conflicts between multiple empires. This story follows the fate of Vatra, a former slave from the eastern Nar Empire who was raised in a culture far away from her own, forced into warfare against her will, and the fate of Lanaya, an ambitious half-angel exiled from her home whose existence is seen as heresy. As they wished for peace, both chose a path opposed to one another until their fate crossed. In this story where war dictates the law, love strikes them as a poisoned balm to which they grasp for with all their might, as it is in the darkest of times that the smallest flames may burn the brightest.

* * *

Tome 1 already completed and available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.ca/Fateless-Silver-Hugo-Emmanuel-Simard-Wallot/dp/B09LGSH1KK

Starting at chapter 21, releases will be bi weekly for a while.