![magelulu:
“ some places in Hoenn to look forward to seeing in 3D for the remakes [1/?] ”](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b0b82c1a30e2acbf09d2b80bf97dc81c/tumblr_n58cyl2Upa1r73rvho1_500.png)
RSEリメイク？続編？おめでとうございます。
ホウエン地方は自然豊かなのに、当時時間経過(昼夜の変化)がなかったのが子供ながらになかなかに残念だったので、
今度こそ夕日とか夜の海とかみられるかな…！たのしみだなぁ。
ルビサファユウキくんの場違いすぎるくらいの隙のない厚着がすきです。
According to Europics, the teens in the photographs at the Midi festival told reporters that walking cabbages helped them cope with emotional problems.
"I feel I can transfer my negative thoughts about myself to the cabbage, go for a walk with it and come home feeling better about myself," 17-year-old Lui Ja Chen was quoted as saying.
It’s unclear whether the teens really saw some therapeutic benefit to the cabbage-walking, or they were just messing with reporters.
Another 17-year-old, Da-Xia Sung, reportedly said “I have more interest for my cabbage than I do my parents. I feel it understands me.”
from http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/05/02/cabbages-for-walks_n_5254589.html
I like this whichever way it spins, because it’s either a buncha kids having a harmless giggle over some silly fuckin’ with older folks, or a buncha kids using a harmless method of emotional coping that must be good for their whole neighborhood, because how can you feel bad if you look out your window and see someone mellowly pulling a cabbage along on a leash? You can’t, it’s cute as hell and your day has been improved.
“I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages.”
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages.”
something that i miss about childhood? well people don’t ask me what my favorite shape is anymore. adults just don’t do this. it’s a triangle in case you were wondering. you don’t care
A mushi has been described as “life in its purest form”. They are seemingly magical creatures which seem to make their home in rural areas, and most of them depend upon either forest or human life in order to live. This is why they are considered a form of parasite.
From the manga Mushi-shi
no. 6
the kids are alright
I feel like too many people think “online” and “fake” are interchangeable words.