insta adeledulcinea
nowhere
Joined February 2015
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des gros criminels à la tête de l'état mais on va coffrer un pelo qui vole du lait infantile, tout va bien
donc en grand 2026 on nous interdit de manifester et potentiellement l'utilisation des réseaux sociaux???
joyeux hunger games à tous hein
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Anok Yai with her parents, Nyibol Akuei and Kenyang Yai for British Vogue June 2026!
Photographed by Rafael Pavarotti.
Styled by Kate Phelan.
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“Quando criei meu Clube do Livro, não foi em um café em Londres, mas na Prisão Feminina de Downview. Uma das detentas me disse algo que nunca esqueci: ‘Se eu tivesse lido mais quando era jovem, talvez não estivesse aqui agora.’”
— Dua Lipa sobre a fundação do seu Clube do Livro.
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La gente rica colecciona relojes lujosos.
Yo colecciono modelos mentales útiles: reglas generales atemporales que simplifican las decisiones.
Los 12 modelos mentales más poderosos (y peligrosos) que he encontrado:
1. El poder de caminar
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“Practice any art… no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to experience becoming, to find out what's inside you, to make your soul grow.”
- McKellen reciting Vonnegut
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In 1974, in a gallery in Naples, Italy, performance artist Marina Abramović did something no one was prepared for. She stood completely still. Silent. Motionless. Beside her, on a table, were 72 objects. Some were harmless—a rose, perfume, bread. Others were dangerous—scissors, chains, a scalpel… and a loaded gun. A sign read:
“You may use any object on me. I will not resist. I take full responsibility.”
For six hours, she became an object. At first, the crowd was gentle. Someone placed a flower in her hand. Someone kissed her cheek. Then something changed. Her clothes were cut. Her skin was scratched by thorns. Blood appeared. People stopped seeing her as a human being. One person cut her neck just to watch the blood flow. Another took the gun, placed it in her hand, and pointed it at her own head. Others intervened to prevent it from going any further. Marina did not react. She did not cry. She did not move. She allowed the crowd to decide how far it would go.
When the six hours ended, she stepped forward. Alive. Bleeding. Human again. And that was the moment the crowd collapsed. People ran away. Avoided her gaze. Unable to face what they had done.
The performance was called Rhythm 0. It was never repeated—not because it failed, but because it proved something terrifying: when responsibility is removed… when permission is given… ordinary people are capable of extraordinary cruelty. And all it takes is silence.
Source:
Marina Abramović: The Artist Is Present by Marina Abramović
