Sensitive content

This media may contain sensitive content.

Video wird geladen...

Video konnte nicht geladen werden

Zur Startseite

Jada Fire😍 49 years old and She’s still got it Chat 😩🔥 #ebonycougar #ebonymf #cougar #milf #soloebony #lesbian #ebonylesbian #Iran #Dior #bigtits

0 Kommentare

Keine Kommentare verfügbar

Kommentare vom Original-Post werden hier angezeigt

Ähnliche Videos

Real estate agent Morgan Goldberg lost her home in the Pacific Palisades fires She says she’s tired of the lies being told by Los Angeles mayor Karen Bass She shows “I’m back here at our reservoir, still empty, almost a year and a half after the fire” Karen Bass says this reservoir hasn’t been used for wildfires “in a million years” and now it’s only for drinking water Well, that’s a lie for 2 reasons Bass says the reservoir hasn’t been used in millions of years to fight fires, that’s false. It’s not that old 2nd, the reservoir can absolutely be used for fighting fires “All municipal systems have two kinds of water: potable and non-potable - Potable water is, in addition to drinking water, used in all of our systems; irrigation, fire hydrants, you name it. It simply means that the water's been treated - So non-potable water is sewage water, runoff water, everything that has not been treated or gone through our system So Just by mere fact that this exists in a LADWP man-made reservoir makes it potable, and it also funnels water to our fire hydrants. So yes, this is drinking water and it's fire hydrant water. We use it for everything. Except we don't because it's empty.” She’s referred to The Santa Ynez Reservoir, the 117 million gallon covered reservoir in the Pacific Palisades Highlands The reservoir stores treated drinking water. Its cover prevents contamination, which is why it isn’t used like open reservoirs for direct helicopter dipping. However, in an emergency this could have easily been used to fight fires So Karen Bass is lying again

Wall Street Apes

469,248 Aufrufe • vor 3 Monaten

Human instinct tells you to run away from fire. ​Bone-deep love does the exact opposite. ​4:00 a.m. The house is roaring in Aberdeen, Washington. Derrick Byrd, just 20 years old, is already badly burned on the front lawn. He has just caught his baby niece and nephew dropping from the second story into his bare arms. ​Then he looks up. ​Eight-year-old Mercedes is still at the ledge. Paralyzed by pure terror. ​Before she can jump, the smoke swallows the room. She falls backward into the darkness, and through the roaring wall of heat, Derrick hears one sound that stops his heart: ​She is screaming his name. ​He doesn’t wait for sirens. He doesn’t look for gear. ​He sprints straight through the front door and charges up the burning staircase. ​Skin blistering. Flesh melting against the heat. Lungs searing on toxic black air. He doesn't slow down. He breaches the wall of flames on the second floor, grabs Mercedes, and rips off his own shirt to wrap around her face so the poison smoke won't touch her lungs. ​He shields her body with his own flesh and carries her into the street seconds before the entire roof caves in. ​He wakes up in a hospital bed—bandaged from head to toe, covered in severe second, third, and fourth-degree burns, battling catastrophic nerve damage. ​When they asked him why he did it, this 20-year-old didn't hesitate: ​“I’d run back in there and do it again. Even if I got burnt worse or died. I’d rather it be me than her. She’s young. She’s got a whole life ahead of her.” ​True courage isn't the absence of pain—it’s deciding that someone else’s life is worth every single scar.

Afshine Emrani MD FACC

52,329 Aufrufe • vor 15 Tagen

🎶 The Song Still Hasn’t Surrendered. The late afternoon light was soft, the crowd stretched all the way to the horizon, and she simply held the microphone and sang. No dancing. No elaborate production. Just that quiet, clear voice and eyes fixed somewhere beyond the front rows. That video still circulates today. More than twenty years have passed. Musical trends have come and gone. Entire generations have grown up with completely different sounds. And yet every time “White Flag” plays from that Live 8 performance, people still stop, go quiet, and sometimes… feel their eyes sting. Why? The song begins with a stark admission. “I know you think that I shouldn’t still love you / Or tell you that.” She knows the other person doesn’t want to hear it anymore. She knows she caused enough damage. She even understands the logic of “it’s over, so let it go.” Then the chorus rises: “I will go down with this ship And I won’t put my hands up and surrender There will be no white flag above my door I’m in love and always will be.” A white flag is the universal symbol of surrender. Dido flips it. She refuses to surrender her own feelings. Not because she still hopes for a reunion. Not because she’s clinging. Simply because the feeling is still there, and she can’t — and won’t — pretend it has disappeared. Some people once heard this as a song about unhealthy attachment. Listen more carefully and it becomes something simpler and more honest: a refusal to erase what is still true. Dido wrote it after the end of her engagement. Years later she admitted that hearing the song still brings the old emotion back. The track doesn’t try to explain or heal anything. It just records a very real state of being: still in love, even when there’s no way back. That’s what has kept “White Flag” alive. It doesn’t belong to one generation. A twenty-year-old hears it and recognizes a feeling they just lived through. Someone in their forties or fifties hears it and remembers the times they faced the same choice. Feeling has no age. It only has moments when it’s still present and moments when it has faded. Dido’s voice makes that even clearer. She never needed big vocal fireworks. Soft breath, slow melody, every line delivered like a private conversation. Even standing in front of hundreds of thousands of people at Live 8, the song still felt intimate. In the middle of a global event about poverty and justice, she brought something small and personal onto the stage. That contrast made the emotion cut sharper. There’s a detail most people don’t know. Right after she walked off the Hyde Park stage, Dido got into a helicopter. She flew straight to the Eden Project in Cornwall to perform again at the Africa Calling show, then flew on to Paris for a third performance — all in the same day. Three stages, three cities, a few short hours. She wanted to do what Phil Collins had done at Live Aid in 1985, only more ambitious. While the world watched a historic concert, Dido was still moving between flights, carrying the same song about refusing to let go. Today that Live 8 video still gets millions of views. Some people say they listen to it alone in the car. Others connect it to someone they lost. Many simply write: “I don’t know why, but it still gets me every time.” No further explanation needed. The song speaks for itself. Looking back at that moment in 2005, Dido wasn’t trying to move the audience. She just stood there and sang exactly what she felt. No exaggeration, no polish. That honesty is what carried the song further than any trend. More than twenty years later, “White Flag” is still here. Not because it’s perfect. But because it’s true. Do you still carry any “white flag” of your own?

Music over time🎻

12,562 Aufrufe • vor 13 Tagen