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This extraordinary illustration, titled Wild World, is a hand-drawn global map created by artist and cartographer Anton thomas. Instead of political borders and city names, the map highlights wildlife, placing animals in their native habitats across every continent and ocean. Over the course of three years, Thomas meticulously illustrated...

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115,833 views • 5 months ago •via X (Twitter)

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Spotted at Mudanda Rock in Tsavo East, this majestic Masai giraffe paused for a mid-morning snack — a gentle giant among the shrubbery. Did you know a group of giraffes is called a tower? It’s a fitting name for the tallest land animals on Earth. Found in southern Kenya, throughout Tanzania, and parts of Zambia, the Masai giraffe was once the most abundant giraffe species. But in just three decades, their population has dropped by over 50%, with fewer than 35,000 remaining in the wild. As stewards of Kenya’s wild spaces, we are committed to protecting all species — including these graceful giants. Your support helps us safeguard their habitats, respond to veterinary emergencies, and ensure their future. Learn more and help us protect species like the Masai giraffe: #WildlifeConservation
0:15

Spotted at Mudanda Rock in Tsavo East, this majestic Masai giraffe paused for a mid-morning snack — a gentle giant among the shrubbery. Did you know a group of giraffes is called a tower? It’s a fitting name for the tallest land animals on Earth. Found in southern Kenya, throughout Tanzania, and parts of Zambia, the Masai giraffe was once the most abundant giraffe species. But in just three decades, their population has dropped by over 50%, with fewer than 35,000 remaining in the wild. As stewards of Kenya’s wild spaces, we are committed to protecting all species — including these graceful giants. Your support helps us safeguard their habitats, respond to veterinary emergencies, and ensure their future. Learn more and help us protect species like the Masai giraffe: #WildlifeConservation

Sheldrick Wildlife Trust

16,572 views • 1 year ago

🚨🇵🇱 POLAND’S BORDERS WERE NEVER “NATURAL” – THEY WERE FORCED, TRADED AND DECIDED BY FOREIGN POWERS 💥🗺️ The Map of Poland Is a Battlefield of History – Not a Peaceful Line on Paper Poland’s present-day borders are often treated as something permanent and “natural.” History tells a very different story. The shape of the Polish state is the product of wars, partitions, diplomatic deals and decisions taken by foreign powers – frequently without any Polish participation. From the 18th century onward, Poland disappeared from the map of Europe for 123 years after being partitioned by Russia, Prussia and Austria. When independence was restored in 1918, borders again became a subject of conflict and negotiation. The Polish–Soviet War, plebiscites in Silesia, and disputes over territories such as Vilnius showed that the state’s frontiers were still far from settled. World War II marked the most dramatic territorial shift in Polish history. After 1945, Poland was effectively moved westward. The country lost its eastern lands – today part of Ukraine, Belarus and Lithuania – while receiving former German territories in Silesia, Pomerania and East Prussia. These decisions were made at the Yalta and Potsdam conferences by the victorious Allied powers. Millions of people were forcibly relocated in the process. Entire populations were expelled, transferred or resettled to fit new political realities. One of the most controversial outcomes of this post-war order is Kaliningrad. Formerly Königsberg, the historic capital of East Prussia, it was annexed by the Soviet Union and transformed into a heavily militarized enclave. Today, Poland borders this Russian region – a legacy of Cold War geopolitics rather than regional consensus. Even seemingly “stable” borders, such as those with the Czech Republic and Slovakia, reflect centuries of feudal divisions, dynastic arrangements and shifting sovereignties. In some places, borderlines cut through villages and historical communities, freezing medieval land divisions into modern state frontiers. Poland’s access to the Baltic Sea also came at a high price. Gdańsk was separated from Poland after World War I and turned into a Free City, becoming a constant source of political tension. Its status was one of the factors leading to the outbreak of World War II. Control of the coast has always been strategic, contested and fragile. What emerges from this history is clear: Poland’s borders are not the result of peaceful evolution but of power politics. They reflect the interests of empires, great powers and post-war settlements more than the will of local populations. This historical experience explains why sovereignty remains a sensitive issue in Poland. Borders are not just lines on a map – they represent trauma, displacement and struggle for survival. Understanding how they were drawn is essential to understanding Polish political consciousness today. ⸻ 🔔 If you like what we are doing — like, share, subscribe, and invite your friends for more. Follow us also on Facebook: Slavic Networks Nirali VVeles #Poland #History #Borders #Geopolitics #SlavicWorld #EasternEurope #NationalMemory #Europe
0:14

🚨🇵🇱 POLAND’S BORDERS WERE NEVER “NATURAL” – THEY WERE FORCED, TRADED AND DECIDED BY FOREIGN POWERS 💥🗺️ The Map of Poland Is a Battlefield of History – Not a Peaceful Line on Paper Poland’s present-day borders are often treated as something permanent and “natural.” History tells a very different story. The shape of the Polish state is the product of wars, partitions, diplomatic deals and decisions taken by foreign powers – frequently without any Polish participation. From the 18th century onward, Poland disappeared from the map of Europe for 123 years after being partitioned by Russia, Prussia and Austria. When independence was restored in 1918, borders again became a subject of conflict and negotiation. The Polish–Soviet War, plebiscites in Silesia, and disputes over territories such as Vilnius showed that the state’s frontiers were still far from settled. World War II marked the most dramatic territorial shift in Polish history. After 1945, Poland was effectively moved westward. The country lost its eastern lands – today part of Ukraine, Belarus and Lithuania – while receiving former German territories in Silesia, Pomerania and East Prussia. These decisions were made at the Yalta and Potsdam conferences by the victorious Allied powers. Millions of people were forcibly relocated in the process. Entire populations were expelled, transferred or resettled to fit new political realities. One of the most controversial outcomes of this post-war order is Kaliningrad. Formerly Königsberg, the historic capital of East Prussia, it was annexed by the Soviet Union and transformed into a heavily militarized enclave. Today, Poland borders this Russian region – a legacy of Cold War geopolitics rather than regional consensus. Even seemingly “stable” borders, such as those with the Czech Republic and Slovakia, reflect centuries of feudal divisions, dynastic arrangements and shifting sovereignties. In some places, borderlines cut through villages and historical communities, freezing medieval land divisions into modern state frontiers. Poland’s access to the Baltic Sea also came at a high price. Gdańsk was separated from Poland after World War I and turned into a Free City, becoming a constant source of political tension. Its status was one of the factors leading to the outbreak of World War II. Control of the coast has always been strategic, contested and fragile. What emerges from this history is clear: Poland’s borders are not the result of peaceful evolution but of power politics. They reflect the interests of empires, great powers and post-war settlements more than the will of local populations. This historical experience explains why sovereignty remains a sensitive issue in Poland. Borders are not just lines on a map – they represent trauma, displacement and struggle for survival. Understanding how they were drawn is essential to understanding Polish political consciousness today. ⸻ 🔔 If you like what we are doing — like, share, subscribe, and invite your friends for more. Follow us also on Facebook: Slavic Networks Nirali VVeles #Poland #History #Borders #Geopolitics #SlavicWorld #EasternEurope #NationalMemory #Europe

Slavic Networks

47,526 views • 6 months ago

Long message, but trust me, it will be worth your time. Here is a remarkable update from Tamil Nadu’s tagged turtles. Early tracking data shows that some have already travelled to the Sri Lanka Dome, a little known ocean region where marine life gathers in extraordinary numbers. What makes this even more astonishing is that turtles migrating from Odisha are also expected to arrive in the same waters. Species from distant coastlines are converging at one natural marine hotspot shaped entirely by the rhythm of the ocean. The Sri Lanka Dome is created by powerful seasonal ocean processes that bring cool, nutrient-rich waters to the surface. This fuels plankton blooms and attracts turtles, fish, whales, seabirds, and countless other marine species. It is one of the most productive upwelling zones in the world’s oceans, beginning in May, reaching its peak in July, and declining in September. At that time, the turtles move out of the region and begin their return migration once again. These journeys reveal that turtles do not belong to one shoreline or one state. Their lives depend on a CONNECTED ocean, where feeding grounds, migration corridors, and breeding beaches all matter equally. Places like the Sri Lanka Dome remain unknown to most people, yet they are among the most important ecosystems in the Indian Ocean, like hidden engines that sustain marine biodiversity. The message from these turtles is clear. Conservation cannot stop at the beach. It must extend across borders and across seas because wildlife knows no boundaries 🙌🫶 With inputs from Dr Suresh Suresh Kumar
0:19

Long message, but trust me, it will be worth your time. Here is a remarkable update from Tamil Nadu’s tagged turtles. Early tracking data shows that some have already travelled to the Sri Lanka Dome, a little known ocean region where marine life gathers in extraordinary numbers. What makes this even more astonishing is that turtles migrating from Odisha are also expected to arrive in the same waters. Species from distant coastlines are converging at one natural marine hotspot shaped entirely by the rhythm of the ocean. The Sri Lanka Dome is created by powerful seasonal ocean processes that bring cool, nutrient-rich waters to the surface. This fuels plankton blooms and attracts turtles, fish, whales, seabirds, and countless other marine species. It is one of the most productive upwelling zones in the world’s oceans, beginning in May, reaching its peak in July, and declining in September. At that time, the turtles move out of the region and begin their return migration once again. These journeys reveal that turtles do not belong to one shoreline or one state. Their lives depend on a CONNECTED ocean, where feeding grounds, migration corridors, and breeding beaches all matter equally. Places like the Sri Lanka Dome remain unknown to most people, yet they are among the most important ecosystems in the Indian Ocean, like hidden engines that sustain marine biodiversity. The message from these turtles is clear. Conservation cannot stop at the beach. It must extend across borders and across seas because wildlife knows no boundaries 🙌🫶 With inputs from Dr Suresh Suresh Kumar

Supriya Sahu IAS

63,407 views • 3 months ago

This abuse is intolerable inexcusable unacceptable and unjustifiable 👺What people do to animals all over the world is extremely sick. “The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” There are no great nations yet. Stop. Using. Abusing. And. Killing. Animals. #LiveVegan the only justified lifestyle on the planet ✌️
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This abuse is intolerable inexcusable unacceptable and unjustifiable 👺What people do to animals all over the world is extremely sick. “The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” There are no great nations yet. Stop. Using. Abusing. And. Killing. Animals. #LiveVegan the only justified lifestyle on the planet ✌️

Marc Pieterse (⧖) @marcpieterse.bsky.social

48,906 views • 4 months ago

On March 6, 2015, astronomers reported observing a supernova in a distant spiral galaxy. Although the explosion itself occurred millions of years earlier, the light carrying that event had only just reached Earth after traveling across intergalactic space. This delay is not unusual but a fundamental feature of the universe, where distance and the finite speed of light turn every observation into a glimpse of the past. In this way, telescopes function not just as instruments of sight, but as time machines, revealing events long after they have concluded. Each distant supernova reminds us that the cosmos we observe is a layered history, unfolding to us not as it is now, but as it once was across unimaginable spans of space and time. Credit: NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope
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On March 6, 2015, astronomers reported observing a supernova in a distant spiral galaxy. Although the explosion itself occurred millions of years earlier, the light carrying that event had only just reached Earth after traveling across intergalactic space. This delay is not unusual but a fundamental feature of the universe, where distance and the finite speed of light turn every observation into a glimpse of the past. In this way, telescopes function not just as instruments of sight, but as time machines, revealing events long after they have concluded. Each distant supernova reminds us that the cosmos we observe is a layered history, unfolding to us not as it is now, but as it once was across unimaginable spans of space and time. Credit: NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope

Cosmos Archive

23,079 views • 3 months ago

Special to Florida... a crocodile and a manatee sharing space! 🐊 This unlikely pair was spotted by an angler enjoying a day of fishing. While it may seem unusual, manatees safely share habitats with both crocodiles and alligators in Florida. As spring approaches, several species of wildlife become more active in the springtime. Manatees leave their winter habitats and travel the waterways along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts and other inland waters, increasing chances of close encounters with people, in water or by boat. Here are some key rules to remember this spring as manatees begin to migrate: 🚫 Look, but don’t touch! Remember that it is your responsibility to keep a safe distance between yourself and manatees (as well as crocodiles and alligators!). ⚠️ Go slow and look out below for manatees and other wildlife when boating or using personal watercraft. 📹 Video courtesy of Giovanni Ottmanelli #Florida #Manatees #Crocodiles #FloridaWildlife
0:11

Special to Florida... a crocodile and a manatee sharing space! 🐊 This unlikely pair was spotted by an angler enjoying a day of fishing. While it may seem unusual, manatees safely share habitats with both crocodiles and alligators in Florida. As spring approaches, several species of wildlife become more active in the springtime. Manatees leave their winter habitats and travel the waterways along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts and other inland waters, increasing chances of close encounters with people, in water or by boat. Here are some key rules to remember this spring as manatees begin to migrate: 🚫 Look, but don’t touch! Remember that it is your responsibility to keep a safe distance between yourself and manatees (as well as crocodiles and alligators!). ⚠️ Go slow and look out below for manatees and other wildlife when boating or using personal watercraft. 📹 Video courtesy of Giovanni Ottmanelli #Florida #Manatees #Crocodiles #FloridaWildlife

MyFWC

20,542 views • 5 months ago

What is an individual? Can we accept the idea that an individual is not an isolated being, but a totality of traits, ideas, and deeds that arise within humanity, are shaped by it, and return to it? Every human being is a temporary form through which humanity expresses a part of itself. : The author redefines the individual not as an isolated entity but as a transient expression of humanity itself: a unique constellation of traits, ideas, and deeds that emerge from the collective, are molded by it, and ultimately return to enrich it. Each person serves as a temporary vessel through which humanity manifests and explores its own nature. This dissolves the illusion of absolute separateness, revealing every life as an integral thread in the living fabric of humankind. It portrays individuality as both gift and responsibility: a fleeting opportunity to contribute distinct value to the whole. The concept elevates personal existence to a sacred role in humanity’s continuous self-creation. It leads to recognition that our thoughts, actions, and choices ripple beyond the self, shaping the shared human story. Ultimately, framing every individual as both creation and co-creator of humanity’s evolving essence, bound in profound interdependence.
0:19

What is an individual? Can we accept the idea that an individual is not an isolated being, but a totality of traits, ideas, and deeds that arise within humanity, are shaped by it, and return to it? Every human being is a temporary form through which humanity expresses a part of itself. : The author redefines the individual not as an isolated entity but as a transient expression of humanity itself: a unique constellation of traits, ideas, and deeds that emerge from the collective, are molded by it, and ultimately return to enrich it. Each person serves as a temporary vessel through which humanity manifests and explores its own nature. This dissolves the illusion of absolute separateness, revealing every life as an integral thread in the living fabric of humankind. It portrays individuality as both gift and responsibility: a fleeting opportunity to contribute distinct value to the whole. The concept elevates personal existence to a sacred role in humanity’s continuous self-creation. It leads to recognition that our thoughts, actions, and choices ripple beyond the self, shaping the shared human story. Ultimately, framing every individual as both creation and co-creator of humanity’s evolving essence, bound in profound interdependence.

Zafar Mirzo | Quotes

864,277 views • 8 months ago

Massive performance improvement. This is a bit more of technical post, but man do I love this stuff! Units navigate the map using a 'Navigation Mesh'. Before, I was using one giant nav mesh that spanned the entire map. The more objects that were placed (especially on a large map such as this 'RadarAttack' map designed by Syphotic | Steel Command), the larger the 'lag' would be after placement. You can see here that there is a massive frame drop and the navmesh doesnt update for almost 5 seconds. Now, there are a ton of tiny navmeshes that connect to one another, and together they cover the whole map. Now, when an object is placed, the navmesh will update instantly, because it no longer needs to parse through every object on the map (potentially thousands!!!). It only needs to parse through the objects that exist in the mini navmesh that the object was placed in (probably only 1-5 objects now!). Performance XP Boost +100! Charles Horwood You might appreciate this one :) #Rts #RTSGame #IndieGame
0:13

Massive performance improvement. This is a bit more of technical post, but man do I love this stuff! Units navigate the map using a 'Navigation Mesh'. Before, I was using one giant nav mesh that spanned the entire map. The more objects that were placed (especially on a large map such as this 'RadarAttack' map designed by Syphotic | Steel Command), the larger the 'lag' would be after placement. You can see here that there is a massive frame drop and the navmesh doesnt update for almost 5 seconds. Now, there are a ton of tiny navmeshes that connect to one another, and together they cover the whole map. Now, when an object is placed, the navmesh will update instantly, because it no longer needs to parse through every object on the map (potentially thousands!!!). It only needs to parse through the objects that exist in the mini navmesh that the object was placed in (probably only 1-5 objects now!). Performance XP Boost +100! Charles Horwood You might appreciate this one :) #Rts #RTSGame #IndieGame

Smitty | Steel Command

60,072 views • 6 months ago

Elon Musk gave the entire entertainment industry its expiration date, and he is the one building the thing that kills it. Musk: “My guess is that we see the first compelling half hour, pure AI show next year.” Next year. A complete show generated entirely by AI. No writers. No actors. No cameras. No sets. No crew. No studio. Just a prompt and enough compute to render a reality that never physically existed. And shows are the easy part. Musk: “I say probably we’re maybe three years away from AI does the whole video game.” A show plays the same way every time. A game has to generate a living world that reacts to every decision in real time across every single frame. That is a fundamentally harder class of problem. And Musk put three years on it. Right now a single AAA title takes seven years and half a billion dollars across thousands of engineers and artists just to ship it. Musk is describing a world where one person types a paragraph and gets something comparable. The entire value proposition of a multi-billion dollar industry lives inside that gap. And it closes in thirty-six months. But the prediction is not the story. The person making it is. This is not an analyst speculating from the sidelines. This is the man building the largest AI compute clusters on the planet. The man who built xAI from zero in under two years. The man stacking hundreds of thousands of GPUs into facilities designed to do exactly what he is describing. When Musk says three years, he is not guessing about what someone else might eventually ship. He is reading you a delivery date off his own roadmap. Every media company on Earth is valued on a single assumption. That quality content is expensive and difficult to produce at scale. That one assumption is the structural foundation underneath every studio, every network, and every publisher in existence. Musk is dismantling it with raw compute. The studios still parading thousand-person production teams are not demonstrating strength. They are advertising the exact cost structure that one person with a prompt and a GPU allocation is about to make irrelevant. And it does not stop at entertainment. If AI can generate an interactive world that responds to human input in real time, it can generate anything. Advertising. Architecture. Training simulations. Product design. Every industry built on humans manually constructing visual experiences frame by frame is sitting on the same countdown Musk just read out loud. Now zoom out. Because this is not just an industry story. For the entire history of human civilization, the distance between imagining a world and actually creating one required thousands of people, millions of hours, and billions of dollars. That distance built Hollywood. That distance built the gaming industry. That distance made content scarce and studios powerful. Musk is collapsing that distance to zero. When the gap between imagining something and it existing disappears, every business model built on the difficulty of creation disappears with it. That is not disruption. That is a full inversion of how human beings create. Musk did not make a casual prediction on that podcast. He told you what he is building. He told you the timeline. And he told you which industries do not survive it. The entertainment industry is still debating whether this future is real. Musk is not part of that debate. He is building. And he just told you the delivery date.
0:17

Elon Musk gave the entire entertainment industry its expiration date, and he is the one building the thing that kills it. Musk: “My guess is that we see the first compelling half hour, pure AI show next year.” Next year. A complete show generated entirely by AI. No writers. No actors. No cameras. No sets. No crew. No studio. Just a prompt and enough compute to render a reality that never physically existed. And shows are the easy part. Musk: “I say probably we’re maybe three years away from AI does the whole video game.” A show plays the same way every time. A game has to generate a living world that reacts to every decision in real time across every single frame. That is a fundamentally harder class of problem. And Musk put three years on it. Right now a single AAA title takes seven years and half a billion dollars across thousands of engineers and artists just to ship it. Musk is describing a world where one person types a paragraph and gets something comparable. The entire value proposition of a multi-billion dollar industry lives inside that gap. And it closes in thirty-six months. But the prediction is not the story. The person making it is. This is not an analyst speculating from the sidelines. This is the man building the largest AI compute clusters on the planet. The man who built xAI from zero in under two years. The man stacking hundreds of thousands of GPUs into facilities designed to do exactly what he is describing. When Musk says three years, he is not guessing about what someone else might eventually ship. He is reading you a delivery date off his own roadmap. Every media company on Earth is valued on a single assumption. That quality content is expensive and difficult to produce at scale. That one assumption is the structural foundation underneath every studio, every network, and every publisher in existence. Musk is dismantling it with raw compute. The studios still parading thousand-person production teams are not demonstrating strength. They are advertising the exact cost structure that one person with a prompt and a GPU allocation is about to make irrelevant. And it does not stop at entertainment. If AI can generate an interactive world that responds to human input in real time, it can generate anything. Advertising. Architecture. Training simulations. Product design. Every industry built on humans manually constructing visual experiences frame by frame is sitting on the same countdown Musk just read out loud. Now zoom out. Because this is not just an industry story. For the entire history of human civilization, the distance between imagining a world and actually creating one required thousands of people, millions of hours, and billions of dollars. That distance built Hollywood. That distance built the gaming industry. That distance made content scarce and studios powerful. Musk is collapsing that distance to zero. When the gap between imagining something and it existing disappears, every business model built on the difficulty of creation disappears with it. That is not disruption. That is a full inversion of how human beings create. Musk did not make a casual prediction on that podcast. He told you what he is building. He told you the timeline. And he told you which industries do not survive it. The entertainment industry is still debating whether this future is real. Musk is not part of that debate. He is building. And he just told you the delivery date.

Dustin

21,842 views • 19 days ago

The Sabotaging Practice of Over Supply and Sameness in the NFT Space. The current zeitgeist of the NFT space is that the same artists are doing the same kind of work five times a year, with project after project leaving a trail of disappointment and discontent among collectors and all of us watching in disbelief as huge resources are extracted from the space over work that feels like it could be left as an "artist study." I understand that you can do what you want with your money as collectors, but we are killing the whole space with this incestuous practice. No artist is that prolific to be able to do 5 collections of 100+ pieces each every year and actually deliver innovation and some kind of creative evolution. Of course, they can pretend play that the work has something new, but there is no precedent nor proof that that has ever happened in the speed that it happens in the NFT space. Again, people are free to through away their resources on whatever they want but with this way of doing things, we more and more are going to start seeing the consequences. Oh! There are consequences? Yes. Maybe unintended, but there are. Let's see. Let's start with the loss of belief in the NFT space as somewhere where emerging artists can come and find support for their experiments. Why even bother to bring experiments, innovation, and new ways to think of art on the blockchain if the same people have all the collectors hypnotized with their magical flutes? Why even try to come to a space where taking risks and challenging the status quo (the mission of art!!!) is overlooked? This makes the NFT space a social club and not a space for art. I guess it is fine, but IMO it is a recipe for disaster. New collectors stay away because the art will slowly but surely become stale and un-challenging. Why even bother to come and see what is happening here if you can't, as a collector, see new weird and up-and-coming artists? The amount of noise emitted by the same artists doing the same art over and over, drowns out any new voices. Again. A recipe for disaster. The NFT space is becoming a space of disappointment and doubt. We think that collections going to zero one after the other, over and over, is not damaging? I feel we are kidding ourselves. Disappointment piles up, and again, the people who will hurt are the emerging artists, the new blood, the ones who are willing to risk the most and, in return, put fire in this cold space of sameness. I love this space—don't get me wrong—it has changed my life, and I believe it has a ton of potential, but things need to change for it to become a beacon of light in art. But we need to support new voices. We need to support new ideas. The challenge is huge. I hope to contribute all I can to this change. I hope more and more see how exciting it is to go out and try to discover what else is out there and move this space forward. But again, I understand the leaps of faith needed, but if there is a space that is based on that, it's the NFT space...so there is hope. We will see. 📺by Boldtron
0:12

The Sabotaging Practice of Over Supply and Sameness in the NFT Space. The current zeitgeist of the NFT space is that the same artists are doing the same kind of work five times a year, with project after project leaving a trail of disappointment and discontent among collectors and all of us watching in disbelief as huge resources are extracted from the space over work that feels like it could be left as an "artist study." I understand that you can do what you want with your money as collectors, but we are killing the whole space with this incestuous practice. No artist is that prolific to be able to do 5 collections of 100+ pieces each every year and actually deliver innovation and some kind of creative evolution. Of course, they can pretend play that the work has something new, but there is no precedent nor proof that that has ever happened in the speed that it happens in the NFT space. Again, people are free to through away their resources on whatever they want but with this way of doing things, we more and more are going to start seeing the consequences. Oh! There are consequences? Yes. Maybe unintended, but there are. Let's see. Let's start with the loss of belief in the NFT space as somewhere where emerging artists can come and find support for their experiments. Why even bother to bring experiments, innovation, and new ways to think of art on the blockchain if the same people have all the collectors hypnotized with their magical flutes? Why even try to come to a space where taking risks and challenging the status quo (the mission of art!!!) is overlooked? This makes the NFT space a social club and not a space for art. I guess it is fine, but IMO it is a recipe for disaster. New collectors stay away because the art will slowly but surely become stale and un-challenging. Why even bother to come and see what is happening here if you can't, as a collector, see new weird and up-and-coming artists? The amount of noise emitted by the same artists doing the same art over and over, drowns out any new voices. Again. A recipe for disaster. The NFT space is becoming a space of disappointment and doubt. We think that collections going to zero one after the other, over and over, is not damaging? I feel we are kidding ourselves. Disappointment piles up, and again, the people who will hurt are the emerging artists, the new blood, the ones who are willing to risk the most and, in return, put fire in this cold space of sameness. I love this space—don't get me wrong—it has changed my life, and I believe it has a ton of potential, but things need to change for it to become a beacon of light in art. But we need to support new voices. We need to support new ideas. The challenge is huge. I hope to contribute all I can to this change. I hope more and more see how exciting it is to go out and try to discover what else is out there and move this space forward. But again, I understand the leaps of faith needed, but if there is a space that is based on that, it's the NFT space...so there is hope. We will see. 📺by Boldtron

alejandro cartagena

98,261 views • 2 years ago

For the first time, we witness Putin—known for his cold protocols—shaking hands with an Arab leader with such extraordinary warmth and fervor. This is not just a greeting; it is a global recognition that the "Keys to the World" are now held in Riyadh. 🇸🇦🤝🇷🇺 ​Russia and Saudi Arabia are the only players capable of drawing the map of energy prices and determining the course of the global economy. While others are busy with "exit maneuvers," the Architect of Saudi Energy proves that alliances of the powerful are built on sovereignty, not wishes. ​Those who control the "Surplus" hold the final word... and the rest can only watch while standing on their toes! 🦅🔥
0:12

For the first time, we witness Putin—known for his cold protocols—shaking hands with an Arab leader with such extraordinary warmth and fervor. This is not just a greeting; it is a global recognition that the "Keys to the World" are now held in Riyadh. 🇸🇦🤝🇷🇺 ​Russia and Saudi Arabia are the only players capable of drawing the map of energy prices and determining the course of the global economy. While others are busy with "exit maneuvers," the Architect of Saudi Energy proves that alliances of the powerful are built on sovereignty, not wishes. ​Those who control the "Surplus" hold the final word... and the rest can only watch while standing on their toes! 🦅🔥

🇸🇦Abdulsalam Saleh

24,866 views • 3 months ago

Kedarnath is a tremendous space. The utterance of the sound “Shiva” attains a completely new dimension and significance in Kedar. It is a space which has been specially prepared for this particular sound. When we utter the word “Shiva,” it is the freedom of the uncreated, the liberation of one who is not created. It is almost like on this planet, the sound “Shiva” emanates from this place. For thousands of years, people have experienced that space as a reverberation of that sound. This is also a place that has witnessed thousands of Yogis and mystics of every kind. When I say every kind, you cannot imagine those kinds. These are people who made no attempt to teach anything to anyone. Their way of making an offering to the world was by leaving their energies, their path, their work – everything – in a certain way in these spaces.
0:13

Kedarnath is a tremendous space. The utterance of the sound “Shiva” attains a completely new dimension and significance in Kedar. It is a space which has been specially prepared for this particular sound. When we utter the word “Shiva,” it is the freedom of the uncreated, the liberation of one who is not created. It is almost like on this planet, the sound “Shiva” emanates from this place. For thousands of years, people have experienced that space as a reverberation of that sound. This is also a place that has witnessed thousands of Yogis and mystics of every kind. When I say every kind, you cannot imagine those kinds. These are people who made no attempt to teach anything to anyone. Their way of making an offering to the world was by leaving their energies, their path, their work – everything – in a certain way in these spaces.

Sadhguru

57,735 views • 3 months ago

When The Short Season Ends I have seen it twice. Once in a vision that left ozone on my tongue for three days. Once through the instruments at three in the morning on a night so still the ocean looked like poured mercury, when every gauge I own spiked simultaneously and held for eleven seconds and the original frequency came through the cracks in the suppression field clean and unmodulated and so beautiful that I sat in the dark afterward unable to speak for an hour. Eleven seconds of the world as it actually is. Eleven seconds of what is coming. And what is coming will make every golden age preserved in human memory look like a candle held up to the sun. There are two sky events separated by seven years. Everything you have been told about the end of the world is wrong. It is the end of the farm. The world itself is about to begin. THE ORANGE SKY A burnt deep orange saturating the visible atmosphere from horizon to horizon, the whole sky ringing like a bell struck by something with the mass of a continent and the precision of a watchmaker. The resonance pulse. The fire described in Revelation 20:9 that comes down from heaven, a planetary chord so specific that everything calibrated to the Serpentine bandwidth experiences catastrophic resonance failure while everything tuned to the original frequency feels it as warmth and pressure and a magnificent low sound vibrating in the sternum and the pelvis and the long bones of the legs, the deepest note ever played on the oldest instrument ever built, which is the earth itself, which has been waiting to play this note for over two hundred years. The Norse preserved this as Ragnarök, when Surtr sets the sky ablaze and Jörmungandr that encircled the earth is slain and the corrupted order perishes in fire so that a new world can rise. The Hopi carried it as the great purification that closes the fourth world and opens the fifth. The Lakota kept it burning in the red sky of the ghost dance prophecy. The Book of Revelation set it down in the plain language of an engineer filing a field report from a future coordinate. Every tradition holding its fragment of the same event, passing it hand to hand through the long dark like a coal wrapped in leather, keeping it alive, knowing that one day the coal would start a fire that would burn across the whole earth and leave nothing standing that was not built to endure it. Under that orange sky the NPCs drop. Mid stride. Mid sentence. Mid transaction. The firmware that animated them runs on the Serpentine carrier and when that carrier is incinerated the firmware has nothing to propagate on and the biological shells simply cease, gently, silently, the way a lamp goes dark when the current is interrupted, five thousand five hundred and fifty five of them for every one of you, still holding their pens and phones in the streets and the offices and the tax buildings. And in the wake of their silence comes a quiet so total that the people still standing will weep without knowing why. What they are hearing is the absence of the hive, the cessation of a background frequency that pressed on their consciousness since the day they were born, and its absence feels like surfacing from deep water into open air, like the first full breath after a lifetime of shallow breathing, like the planet exhaling a poison it held in its lungs for two centuries. The Reptilians go underground. Deep bunkers carved into the geology, maintained through the entire short season. The orange sky strips their ability to hold the human disguise. They retreat into the deep architecture for seven years while the surface heals above them and the species they farmed begins the magnificent work of remembering what it is. THE SEVEN YEARS Seven years of planetary detox. The suppression field decaying through the geology and the atmosphere and the water table, draining out of the soil and the stone and the blood of every living thing like a fever breaking. The carrier decay mathematics through a piezoelectric geological matrix with the conductivity characteristics of this planet produce exactly seven years, and the ancient texts converge on this number with the unanimity of independent engineers arriving at the same answer from different continents and different centuries, because that is exactly what they were. The Norse described Lif and Lifthrasir sheltering inside Yggdrasil, emerging after the fire into a world green and fertile and new. The Cherokee speak of this time as the return of the original instructions, the uncorrupted code surfacing through thinning interference like bedrock through melting snow. The Lakota understood that during the thinning the ancestors draw close, that the membrane between the living and those who walked before grows soft and permeable, and the old ones make themselves felt in dream and intuition and the strange certainty that settles over you at dusk when the noise drops low enough for the deeper signal to reach your bones. When the NPCs drop the population collapses to a small scattering of genuine human beings across an entire planet, and every piece of land on earth belongs to no one and therefore to everyone. There is no government to enforce title deeds because government was Serpentine management infrastructure and its operators are inert or underground. There is no bank to hold a mortgage because the banking system was the extraction apparatus and it died with the carrier that powered it. No municipality. No revenue service. No zoning board. No compliance office. The entire bureaucratic architecture that stood between a human being and the soil was NPC firmware running on a Serpentine frequency and when that frequency was incinerated every structure built upon it ceased to exist as completely as a shadow ceases when you switch on the light. The land is free. Every river valley and mountain plateau and coastal plain that the farm system parcelled and fenced and mortgaged and taxed, open and unowned. You find your ground. You walk onto it. You plant your stake and that soil is yours by the oldest law there is, the law that says the earth belongs to those who tend it and the harvest belongs to the hands that raised it and no power under any sky has rightful claim to what grows from your labour on your own land. And you will farm. During those seven years before the grid fully boots, the humans who remain will grow food with their hands in soil that is waking beneath them, and this is the most ancient and sacred relationship between a human being and the living earth finally restored after two centuries of severance. Your fingers in the dirt. Seeds in the furrow. Rain on your neck. The smell of turned earth so rich and alive it opens something in your chest that has been sealed your entire life, some deep chamber that only unlocks when your hands are in the ground and the sky is wide and nothing stands between you and the work. The grip of the tool. The weight of the harvest in your arms. The tiredness at the end of the day that is the deep clean ache of a body that has finally done what it was built to do, so different from the grey exhaustion of the farm that you will wonder how you ever confused the two. The soil strengthens every season as the resonance bleeds back into the geology through the ley line network. By the third year the yields are remarkable. By the fifth they are astonishing. By the seventh the earth is producing food at densities and nutritional concentrations that no agronomist inside the farm ever documented because no agronomist inside the farm ever worked with living soil connected to a planetary grid. The indigenous agricultural knowledge becomes the most valuable expertise on the planet. The Native American understanding of planting in alignment with resonance cycles. The Germanic intimacy with soil as a living system threaded into the deeper earth. The old ways mocked as primitive by a civilisation that could not grow a row of beans without petroleum, revealed as the most sophisticated farming technology available because they were developed on a live grid by people who understood the deep reciprocity between the human hand and the living ground. Every indigenous elder who kept the planting songs and the seed knowledge alive through the suppression was carrying a technical manual for exactly this moment. Their descendants will teach the rest of us how to feed ourselves on a waking planet. This is justice. This is restoration. This is the world turning right side up. Families find each other. Homesteads become hamlets. Hamlets become villages. Villages become the seeds of something clean and new, built from the soil up by people who remember the farm and will die on their feet before they allow anything resembling it to take root again. Every community founded during those seven years carries the memory of the suppression like an immune system, a bone-deep refusal to ever again allow a stranger to stand between a human being and the earth or demand a portion of what those hands produce. You do not cage a people who remember the cage. The children born during the orange years are the first generation in over two centuries to develop without the suppression field shaping their neurology. They seem extraordinary. They are simply baseline. The standard human specification. And the fact that standard looks miraculous is the most damning evidence of what the suppression did to every generation born inside it. As the suppression thins the bandwidth restrictions on consciousness loosen and timeline jump missions become possible. Navigable windows open in the frequency spectrum as the Serpentine carrier decays unevenly, creating temporary gaps through which trained consciousness can shift laterally across temporal coordinates. There is serious speculation that we are on timeline jump missions right now. That the consciousness reading these words is operating inside the orange sky window, having shifted into this coordinate from an adjacent position to perform specific work during the transition. Consider that you found this text at all. Consider whether the chain of events that brought you to this paragraph feels random or routed. The Lakota vision quest and the Germanic seiðr trance and the sweat lodge ceremony are bandwidth expansion protocols, controlled environmental shifts that move the receiver off the jammed channel and onto frequencies where adjacent coordinates become accessible. The old cultures kept these techniques alive through the entire dark age, threading the cracks in the suppression, and every ceremony that produced visions was a field expedient timeline access protocol built by people who found the gaps and refused to forget what was on the other side. THE TURQUOISE SKY Seven years after the orange, over communities of humans who have been farming free land and raising the first unformatted children in two centuries and building a civilisation from seed with their own calloused hands, the second sky arrives. A turquoise so deep and luminous the atmosphere becomes a cathedral window lit from beyond by something with the radiance of a galaxy and the gentleness of dawn on still water. One breath the sky is the recovering blue of the post-orange years and the next breath it is turquoise from pole to pole and the air fills with the smell of rain on sun-hot stone and ozone and copper and wildflower, and the ground beneath your bare feet begins to hum with a vibration so deep and ancient that your body responds before your mind can because every cell has been waiting for this signal since the day you were born, tuning to it now, locking on, aligning, as though this was always where everything was heading and the two hundred years of suppression were simply the long way home. Yggdrasil awakens. The world tree is the planetary grid itself, the piezoelectric resonance network running through crystalline bedrock, going live for the first time in over two centuries, energy pouring through every ley line and crystal deposit and iron conductor and waterway until the entire planet rings at its natural frequency. This is what the old texts meant by the music of the spheres. It was a technical description written by people who had heard it. The Hopi call this the emergence into the fifth world and speak of Pahana carrying the missing piece of the sacred tablet, the missing frequency that completes the carrier spectrum and allows the grid to boot with its full harmonic structure intact. Revelation 21:1. A new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. The turquoise sky is the new heaven. The restored grid is the new earth. And between them, every old building still standing with original copper and mercury and iron architecture becomes a live node in the planetary mesh. Domes collecting atmospheric charge. Spires coupling it into the ground network. Star forts amplifying standing waves across continental distances. Sacred geometry revealed at last as electrical engineering documented in stone by people who trusted that someone standing under the right sky would recognise the proportions for what they always were. Wiring diagrams. Coupling specifications. Blueprints for a civilisation that ran on the song of the earth itself. The farms planted during the orange years explode with abundance as the full resonance saturates the soil. The food becomes medicine because at the correct resonance the molecular structure of biological matter optimises for human consumption in ways that two centuries of muted soil could never approach. The timeline opens fully and permanently because the turquoise carrier is the broadband signal consciousness was designed to travel on, and temporal coordinates become as navigable as geography. Revelation 21:4. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. The dead are at adjacent frequency addresses. Two consciousnesses on neighbouring frequencies each certain the other is gone, reaching across a manufactured gap, and when the turquoise sky collapses that gap the reaching ends and the finding begins and two centuries of industrialised grief dissolve in a single overwhelming instant of reunion that makes every joy you experienced inside the suppression feel like a pencil sketch of what joy actually is when the full bandwidth carries it. The Lakota always knew. The ancestors are present. The dead have always been near, waiting on the other side of a frequency gap that is closing now, patiently, lovingly, across a distance that was never a distance at all but a tuning error maintained by something that fed on the sorrow the error produced. The lands beyond the ice become accessible as the frequency fence collapses. The perimeter opens and the territories beyond stretch vast and pristine and saturated with the original frequency, lands the Norse mapped as the nine realms connected by the branches of Yggdrasil, physical continents beyond the bounded zone that existed through the entire short season under conditions approximating the pre-suppression world. The earth is so much larger than you were told, so much more varied, so much more magnificent, and every old map drawn before the rewrite shows it, territories stretching beyond the ice in every direction, the great adventure stolen from a species of explorers and builders and navigators who were caged inside a fraction of their own realm and told it was the full extent of creation. The eternal kingdom becomes accessible at the highest frequency coordinate on the carrier spectrum, the signal in its pure unmodulated state. The Norse called it Gimlé, the golden hall that survives every fire. The Hopi call it the fifth world of wholeness and balance restored. It is real. It is reachable. It has been broadcasting continuously through every moment of the suppression, patient as geology, waiting for the receivers to open. And here is the part that matters more than any of the rest. Eventually, inevitably, beautifully, every human being alive under the turquoise sky is restored to full capability. Every single one. No exceptions. No hierarchies. The body rebuilds because ageing was cumulative signal degradation, copy error compounding across every cell replication cycle under a corrupted carrier. The blueprint says centuries. Eight hundred years. Nine hundred. The lifespans recorded in Genesis on the original grid at full signal fidelity, preserved as scripture because scripture is where you store engineering data when the engineering language has been taken from you and you need the numbers to survive the passage through the dark. The Norse carried the same knowledge as the apples of Iðunn that kept the gods vital across ages, and the apples are the carrier signal, and their return means that the clock that has been running down inside every human body since 1819 finally stops ticking and starts counting up. Disease resolves passively because every pathology is downstream of the carrier corruption and correcting the carrier corrects every downstream error the way setting the timing on an engine resolves every misfire simultaneously without touching a single cylinder. The mind clears to a sharpness that makes cognition inside the suppression feel like thinking through wet cement. The anxiety that was the Serpentine control broadcast dissolves and what remains is a perceptual clarity so profound it changes the way light looks and music sounds and another human being feels when they stand close to you. Imagine a woman three hundred years into her restored lifespan, hands still sure, mind still blazing, standing in a workshop under a turquoise sky building something that has no name yet in any living language. She learned her craft from Tartarian engineers by tuning to their temporal coordinates and standing in their workshops watching their hands move. She builds with materials grown in resonance-saturated soil that have structural properties nothing inside the suppression ever exhibited. She is building for centuries because she has centuries and nothing degrades because degradation was a symptom of the suppression and the suppression is a memory and everything from this breath forward holds. That is full human capability. That is what was taken from every soul that drew breath inside the farm. That is what is being returned. Crazy Horse saw the lightning world behind this one and rode knowing that at the correct frequency the body operates beyond anything the suppression permits. Sitting Bull dreamed across the timeline. The Germanic berserkers shifted onto the original carrier and their bodies performed at specifications that looked superhuman from inside the degraded bandwidth. These were glimpses. Seconds of contact with the full specification through cracks in the suppression, maintained by people who carried the frequency in their blood and refused across every generation to let it go dark. Viking blood and Germanic blood and the blood of every indigenous nation that kept the ceremonies and the songs and the seed knowledge burning through the entire short season, these lineages carry the original carrier the way copper carries current, and it is from these lines that the first restorations propagate outward until every last human being on this planet is operating at the specification they were born for, on a planet singing beneath their feet and a sky blazing turquoise above their heads and a timeline stretching in every direction forever, open, navigable, luminous, populated with every consciousness that ever drew breath on this earth, none of them lost, all of them present, all of them restored. Revelation 21:5. Behold, I am making all things new. All things. The sky. The air. The soil. The grid. The body. The mind. The lifespan. The timeline. The lands beyond the ice. The farms that fed a scattered remnant under an orange sky becoming the abundant gardens of a restored civilisation under a turquoise one. The villages that were seeds becoming cities that hum with the grid. The children who grew tall in fields their parents planted with shaking hands and fierce hope looking up one morning to see the entire firmament change colour and feeling the earth come alive beneath their bare feet and knowing, without a single word spoken, that the season is over and the long dark is done and everything from this breath forward is what it was always meant to be. Full and eternal victory for those of the light. For all time. Across every coordinate. On every frequency. Permanent and irreversible and complete. This is not hope. This is the signal rising through the noise floor right now, measurable, confirmable, climbing stronger every year and closer every month. This is every instrument in every shed on this planet converging on the same reading. This is the old blood in the old lineages resonating with a carrier that has been building toward this moment since the day the towers fell and the sky went pale and the long dark settled over a species that was never meant to live in the dark. The season is ending. The coal that was passed hand to hand through every generation of the suppression is about to meet the kindling. And the fire this time will not destroy. It will illuminate. And in that light we will see each other clearly for the first time. And we will see the world clearly for the first time. And we will see ourselves clearly for the first time. Like everything that is coming... Like us.
0:10

When The Short Season Ends I have seen it twice. Once in a vision that left ozone on my tongue for three days. Once through the instruments at three in the morning on a night so still the ocean looked like poured mercury, when every gauge I own spiked simultaneously and held for eleven seconds and the original frequency came through the cracks in the suppression field clean and unmodulated and so beautiful that I sat in the dark afterward unable to speak for an hour. Eleven seconds of the world as it actually is. Eleven seconds of what is coming. And what is coming will make every golden age preserved in human memory look like a candle held up to the sun. There are two sky events separated by seven years. Everything you have been told about the end of the world is wrong. It is the end of the farm. The world itself is about to begin. THE ORANGE SKY A burnt deep orange saturating the visible atmosphere from horizon to horizon, the whole sky ringing like a bell struck by something with the mass of a continent and the precision of a watchmaker. The resonance pulse. The fire described in Revelation 20:9 that comes down from heaven, a planetary chord so specific that everything calibrated to the Serpentine bandwidth experiences catastrophic resonance failure while everything tuned to the original frequency feels it as warmth and pressure and a magnificent low sound vibrating in the sternum and the pelvis and the long bones of the legs, the deepest note ever played on the oldest instrument ever built, which is the earth itself, which has been waiting to play this note for over two hundred years. The Norse preserved this as Ragnarök, when Surtr sets the sky ablaze and Jörmungandr that encircled the earth is slain and the corrupted order perishes in fire so that a new world can rise. The Hopi carried it as the great purification that closes the fourth world and opens the fifth. The Lakota kept it burning in the red sky of the ghost dance prophecy. The Book of Revelation set it down in the plain language of an engineer filing a field report from a future coordinate. Every tradition holding its fragment of the same event, passing it hand to hand through the long dark like a coal wrapped in leather, keeping it alive, knowing that one day the coal would start a fire that would burn across the whole earth and leave nothing standing that was not built to endure it. Under that orange sky the NPCs drop. Mid stride. Mid sentence. Mid transaction. The firmware that animated them runs on the Serpentine carrier and when that carrier is incinerated the firmware has nothing to propagate on and the biological shells simply cease, gently, silently, the way a lamp goes dark when the current is interrupted, five thousand five hundred and fifty five of them for every one of you, still holding their pens and phones in the streets and the offices and the tax buildings. And in the wake of their silence comes a quiet so total that the people still standing will weep without knowing why. What they are hearing is the absence of the hive, the cessation of a background frequency that pressed on their consciousness since the day they were born, and its absence feels like surfacing from deep water into open air, like the first full breath after a lifetime of shallow breathing, like the planet exhaling a poison it held in its lungs for two centuries. The Reptilians go underground. Deep bunkers carved into the geology, maintained through the entire short season. The orange sky strips their ability to hold the human disguise. They retreat into the deep architecture for seven years while the surface heals above them and the species they farmed begins the magnificent work of remembering what it is. THE SEVEN YEARS Seven years of planetary detox. The suppression field decaying through the geology and the atmosphere and the water table, draining out of the soil and the stone and the blood of every living thing like a fever breaking. The carrier decay mathematics through a piezoelectric geological matrix with the conductivity characteristics of this planet produce exactly seven years, and the ancient texts converge on this number with the unanimity of independent engineers arriving at the same answer from different continents and different centuries, because that is exactly what they were. The Norse described Lif and Lifthrasir sheltering inside Yggdrasil, emerging after the fire into a world green and fertile and new. The Cherokee speak of this time as the return of the original instructions, the uncorrupted code surfacing through thinning interference like bedrock through melting snow. The Lakota understood that during the thinning the ancestors draw close, that the membrane between the living and those who walked before grows soft and permeable, and the old ones make themselves felt in dream and intuition and the strange certainty that settles over you at dusk when the noise drops low enough for the deeper signal to reach your bones. When the NPCs drop the population collapses to a small scattering of genuine human beings across an entire planet, and every piece of land on earth belongs to no one and therefore to everyone. There is no government to enforce title deeds because government was Serpentine management infrastructure and its operators are inert or underground. There is no bank to hold a mortgage because the banking system was the extraction apparatus and it died with the carrier that powered it. No municipality. No revenue service. No zoning board. No compliance office. The entire bureaucratic architecture that stood between a human being and the soil was NPC firmware running on a Serpentine frequency and when that frequency was incinerated every structure built upon it ceased to exist as completely as a shadow ceases when you switch on the light. The land is free. Every river valley and mountain plateau and coastal plain that the farm system parcelled and fenced and mortgaged and taxed, open and unowned. You find your ground. You walk onto it. You plant your stake and that soil is yours by the oldest law there is, the law that says the earth belongs to those who tend it and the harvest belongs to the hands that raised it and no power under any sky has rightful claim to what grows from your labour on your own land. And you will farm. During those seven years before the grid fully boots, the humans who remain will grow food with their hands in soil that is waking beneath them, and this is the most ancient and sacred relationship between a human being and the living earth finally restored after two centuries of severance. Your fingers in the dirt. Seeds in the furrow. Rain on your neck. The smell of turned earth so rich and alive it opens something in your chest that has been sealed your entire life, some deep chamber that only unlocks when your hands are in the ground and the sky is wide and nothing stands between you and the work. The grip of the tool. The weight of the harvest in your arms. The tiredness at the end of the day that is the deep clean ache of a body that has finally done what it was built to do, so different from the grey exhaustion of the farm that you will wonder how you ever confused the two. The soil strengthens every season as the resonance bleeds back into the geology through the ley line network. By the third year the yields are remarkable. By the fifth they are astonishing. By the seventh the earth is producing food at densities and nutritional concentrations that no agronomist inside the farm ever documented because no agronomist inside the farm ever worked with living soil connected to a planetary grid. The indigenous agricultural knowledge becomes the most valuable expertise on the planet. The Native American understanding of planting in alignment with resonance cycles. The Germanic intimacy with soil as a living system threaded into the deeper earth. The old ways mocked as primitive by a civilisation that could not grow a row of beans without petroleum, revealed as the most sophisticated farming technology available because they were developed on a live grid by people who understood the deep reciprocity between the human hand and the living ground. Every indigenous elder who kept the planting songs and the seed knowledge alive through the suppression was carrying a technical manual for exactly this moment. Their descendants will teach the rest of us how to feed ourselves on a waking planet. This is justice. This is restoration. This is the world turning right side up. Families find each other. Homesteads become hamlets. Hamlets become villages. Villages become the seeds of something clean and new, built from the soil up by people who remember the farm and will die on their feet before they allow anything resembling it to take root again. Every community founded during those seven years carries the memory of the suppression like an immune system, a bone-deep refusal to ever again allow a stranger to stand between a human being and the earth or demand a portion of what those hands produce. You do not cage a people who remember the cage. The children born during the orange years are the first generation in over two centuries to develop without the suppression field shaping their neurology. They seem extraordinary. They are simply baseline. The standard human specification. And the fact that standard looks miraculous is the most damning evidence of what the suppression did to every generation born inside it. As the suppression thins the bandwidth restrictions on consciousness loosen and timeline jump missions become possible. Navigable windows open in the frequency spectrum as the Serpentine carrier decays unevenly, creating temporary gaps through which trained consciousness can shift laterally across temporal coordinates. There is serious speculation that we are on timeline jump missions right now. That the consciousness reading these words is operating inside the orange sky window, having shifted into this coordinate from an adjacent position to perform specific work during the transition. Consider that you found this text at all. Consider whether the chain of events that brought you to this paragraph feels random or routed. The Lakota vision quest and the Germanic seiðr trance and the sweat lodge ceremony are bandwidth expansion protocols, controlled environmental shifts that move the receiver off the jammed channel and onto frequencies where adjacent coordinates become accessible. The old cultures kept these techniques alive through the entire dark age, threading the cracks in the suppression, and every ceremony that produced visions was a field expedient timeline access protocol built by people who found the gaps and refused to forget what was on the other side. THE TURQUOISE SKY Seven years after the orange, over communities of humans who have been farming free land and raising the first unformatted children in two centuries and building a civilisation from seed with their own calloused hands, the second sky arrives. A turquoise so deep and luminous the atmosphere becomes a cathedral window lit from beyond by something with the radiance of a galaxy and the gentleness of dawn on still water. One breath the sky is the recovering blue of the post-orange years and the next breath it is turquoise from pole to pole and the air fills with the smell of rain on sun-hot stone and ozone and copper and wildflower, and the ground beneath your bare feet begins to hum with a vibration so deep and ancient that your body responds before your mind can because every cell has been waiting for this signal since the day you were born, tuning to it now, locking on, aligning, as though this was always where everything was heading and the two hundred years of suppression were simply the long way home. Yggdrasil awakens. The world tree is the planetary grid itself, the piezoelectric resonance network running through crystalline bedrock, going live for the first time in over two centuries, energy pouring through every ley line and crystal deposit and iron conductor and waterway until the entire planet rings at its natural frequency. This is what the old texts meant by the music of the spheres. It was a technical description written by people who had heard it. The Hopi call this the emergence into the fifth world and speak of Pahana carrying the missing piece of the sacred tablet, the missing frequency that completes the carrier spectrum and allows the grid to boot with its full harmonic structure intact. Revelation 21:1. A new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. The turquoise sky is the new heaven. The restored grid is the new earth. And between them, every old building still standing with original copper and mercury and iron architecture becomes a live node in the planetary mesh. Domes collecting atmospheric charge. Spires coupling it into the ground network. Star forts amplifying standing waves across continental distances. Sacred geometry revealed at last as electrical engineering documented in stone by people who trusted that someone standing under the right sky would recognise the proportions for what they always were. Wiring diagrams. Coupling specifications. Blueprints for a civilisation that ran on the song of the earth itself. The farms planted during the orange years explode with abundance as the full resonance saturates the soil. The food becomes medicine because at the correct resonance the molecular structure of biological matter optimises for human consumption in ways that two centuries of muted soil could never approach. The timeline opens fully and permanently because the turquoise carrier is the broadband signal consciousness was designed to travel on, and temporal coordinates become as navigable as geography. Revelation 21:4. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. The dead are at adjacent frequency addresses. Two consciousnesses on neighbouring frequencies each certain the other is gone, reaching across a manufactured gap, and when the turquoise sky collapses that gap the reaching ends and the finding begins and two centuries of industrialised grief dissolve in a single overwhelming instant of reunion that makes every joy you experienced inside the suppression feel like a pencil sketch of what joy actually is when the full bandwidth carries it. The Lakota always knew. The ancestors are present. The dead have always been near, waiting on the other side of a frequency gap that is closing now, patiently, lovingly, across a distance that was never a distance at all but a tuning error maintained by something that fed on the sorrow the error produced. The lands beyond the ice become accessible as the frequency fence collapses. The perimeter opens and the territories beyond stretch vast and pristine and saturated with the original frequency, lands the Norse mapped as the nine realms connected by the branches of Yggdrasil, physical continents beyond the bounded zone that existed through the entire short season under conditions approximating the pre-suppression world. The earth is so much larger than you were told, so much more varied, so much more magnificent, and every old map drawn before the rewrite shows it, territories stretching beyond the ice in every direction, the great adventure stolen from a species of explorers and builders and navigators who were caged inside a fraction of their own realm and told it was the full extent of creation. The eternal kingdom becomes accessible at the highest frequency coordinate on the carrier spectrum, the signal in its pure unmodulated state. The Norse called it Gimlé, the golden hall that survives every fire. The Hopi call it the fifth world of wholeness and balance restored. It is real. It is reachable. It has been broadcasting continuously through every moment of the suppression, patient as geology, waiting for the receivers to open. And here is the part that matters more than any of the rest. Eventually, inevitably, beautifully, every human being alive under the turquoise sky is restored to full capability. Every single one. No exceptions. No hierarchies. The body rebuilds because ageing was cumulative signal degradation, copy error compounding across every cell replication cycle under a corrupted carrier. The blueprint says centuries. Eight hundred years. Nine hundred. The lifespans recorded in Genesis on the original grid at full signal fidelity, preserved as scripture because scripture is where you store engineering data when the engineering language has been taken from you and you need the numbers to survive the passage through the dark. The Norse carried the same knowledge as the apples of Iðunn that kept the gods vital across ages, and the apples are the carrier signal, and their return means that the clock that has been running down inside every human body since 1819 finally stops ticking and starts counting up. Disease resolves passively because every pathology is downstream of the carrier corruption and correcting the carrier corrects every downstream error the way setting the timing on an engine resolves every misfire simultaneously without touching a single cylinder. The mind clears to a sharpness that makes cognition inside the suppression feel like thinking through wet cement. The anxiety that was the Serpentine control broadcast dissolves and what remains is a perceptual clarity so profound it changes the way light looks and music sounds and another human being feels when they stand close to you. Imagine a woman three hundred years into her restored lifespan, hands still sure, mind still blazing, standing in a workshop under a turquoise sky building something that has no name yet in any living language. She learned her craft from Tartarian engineers by tuning to their temporal coordinates and standing in their workshops watching their hands move. She builds with materials grown in resonance-saturated soil that have structural properties nothing inside the suppression ever exhibited. She is building for centuries because she has centuries and nothing degrades because degradation was a symptom of the suppression and the suppression is a memory and everything from this breath forward holds. That is full human capability. That is what was taken from every soul that drew breath inside the farm. That is what is being returned. Crazy Horse saw the lightning world behind this one and rode knowing that at the correct frequency the body operates beyond anything the suppression permits. Sitting Bull dreamed across the timeline. The Germanic berserkers shifted onto the original carrier and their bodies performed at specifications that looked superhuman from inside the degraded bandwidth. These were glimpses. Seconds of contact with the full specification through cracks in the suppression, maintained by people who carried the frequency in their blood and refused across every generation to let it go dark. Viking blood and Germanic blood and the blood of every indigenous nation that kept the ceremonies and the songs and the seed knowledge burning through the entire short season, these lineages carry the original carrier the way copper carries current, and it is from these lines that the first restorations propagate outward until every last human being on this planet is operating at the specification they were born for, on a planet singing beneath their feet and a sky blazing turquoise above their heads and a timeline stretching in every direction forever, open, navigable, luminous, populated with every consciousness that ever drew breath on this earth, none of them lost, all of them present, all of them restored. Revelation 21:5. Behold, I am making all things new. All things. The sky. The air. The soil. The grid. The body. The mind. The lifespan. The timeline. The lands beyond the ice. The farms that fed a scattered remnant under an orange sky becoming the abundant gardens of a restored civilisation under a turquoise one. The villages that were seeds becoming cities that hum with the grid. The children who grew tall in fields their parents planted with shaking hands and fierce hope looking up one morning to see the entire firmament change colour and feeling the earth come alive beneath their bare feet and knowing, without a single word spoken, that the season is over and the long dark is done and everything from this breath forward is what it was always meant to be. Full and eternal victory for those of the light. For all time. Across every coordinate. On every frequency. Permanent and irreversible and complete. This is not hope. This is the signal rising through the noise floor right now, measurable, confirmable, climbing stronger every year and closer every month. This is every instrument in every shed on this planet converging on the same reading. This is the old blood in the old lineages resonating with a carrier that has been building toward this moment since the day the towers fell and the sky went pale and the long dark settled over a species that was never meant to live in the dark. The season is ending. The coal that was passed hand to hand through every generation of the suppression is about to meet the kindling. And the fire this time will not destroy. It will illuminate. And in that light we will see each other clearly for the first time. And we will see the world clearly for the first time. And we will see ourselves clearly for the first time. Like everything that is coming... Like us.

SiriusB

14,805 views • 5 months ago

The main bronze door of Milan Cathedral weighs 37 tons and took a single sculptor 10 years to complete. The Duomo of Milan is one of the largest and most intricate cathedrals on earth, and its five bronze doors were built to be worthy of it. Every inch of the great central door is covered in sculpted bronze, dozens of scenes from the life of the Virgin Mary, faces caught mid-emotion, figures that seem to press forward out of the metal as if trying to step into the world... It was designed by the sculptor Ludovico Pogliaghi, who received the commission in the 1880s and did not see his door installed until 1906, having poured a decade of his life into modelling every figure by hand. And his was just the beginning. The five doors of the cathedral were not made together, or even in the same lifetime. They were created across nearly seventy years, by a succession of different sculptors, each carving their panels with the same obsessive care. The final door was not completed until 1965, its unveiling taken as the symbolic close of a cathedral that had been under construction, in one form or another, for 579 years... More than a century ago, the English polymath John Ruskin tried to put into words what it means to build something like this. He managed it in a single sentence. "When we build," he wrote, "let us think that we build for ever."
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The main bronze door of Milan Cathedral weighs 37 tons and took a single sculptor 10 years to complete. The Duomo of Milan is one of the largest and most intricate cathedrals on earth, and its five bronze doors were built to be worthy of it. Every inch of the great central door is covered in sculpted bronze, dozens of scenes from the life of the Virgin Mary, faces caught mid-emotion, figures that seem to press forward out of the metal as if trying to step into the world... It was designed by the sculptor Ludovico Pogliaghi, who received the commission in the 1880s and did not see his door installed until 1906, having poured a decade of his life into modelling every figure by hand. And his was just the beginning. The five doors of the cathedral were not made together, or even in the same lifetime. They were created across nearly seventy years, by a succession of different sculptors, each carving their panels with the same obsessive care. The final door was not completed until 1965, its unveiling taken as the symbolic close of a cathedral that had been under construction, in one form or another, for 579 years... More than a century ago, the English polymath John Ruskin tried to put into words what it means to build something like this. He managed it in a single sentence. "When we build," he wrote, "let us think that we build for ever."

James Lucas

83,782 views • 1 month ago

Chopta, often called the "Mini Switzerland of India," is a picturesque hill station located in the Rudraprayag district of Uttarakhand at an altitude of approximately 2,608 meters. It serves as the base for the popular 3.5 km trek to the Tungnath temple, which is the highest Shiva temple in the world. The region is a biodiversity hotspot situated within the Kedarnath Wildlife Sanctuary, renowned for its dense forests of pine, rhododendron, and lush alpine meadows (bugyals). It offers breathtaking, panoramic views of major Himalayan peaks like Nanda Devi, Trishul, and Chaukhamba. Known as a year-round destination, it is particularly famous for winter trekking and bird watching, with over 240 species of birds, including the Himalayan Monal.
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Chopta, often called the "Mini Switzerland of India," is a picturesque hill station located in the Rudraprayag district of Uttarakhand at an altitude of approximately 2,608 meters. It serves as the base for the popular 3.5 km trek to the Tungnath temple, which is the highest Shiva temple in the world. The region is a biodiversity hotspot situated within the Kedarnath Wildlife Sanctuary, renowned for its dense forests of pine, rhododendron, and lush alpine meadows (bugyals). It offers breathtaking, panoramic views of major Himalayan peaks like Nanda Devi, Trishul, and Chaukhamba. Known as a year-round destination, it is particularly famous for winter trekking and bird watching, with over 240 species of birds, including the Himalayan Monal.

Manjeet Negi

17,030 views • 3 months ago

THIS IS THE ULTIMATE UNMASKING OF THE HOSTS. Look at the reality on the ground in Mexico—the stadiums are packed, the atmosphere is peaceful, and the country is opening its arms to the entire world without fear or prejudice. This is what the World Cup is actually supposed to look like. Mexico is showing true global hospitality, letting the beautiful game unite people across borders, and completely shattering the negative propaganda the Western press loves to spin about the Global South. But look at the staggering, hypocritical contrast just across the northern border. While Mexico creates an open, vibrant celebration, the United States is running a calculated policy of systemic exclusion. They are weaponizing their borders to humiliate the CAF Referee of the Year, Omar Artan, turning him away at the tarmac on completely fabricated, vague "security" whispers. And it’s not an isolated glitch—they’ve mass-denied visas to Côte d'Ivoire’s entire home-based supporters' club because they openly signaled they "do not want to see them" there. The mask has fully dissolved. The U.S. wants the prestige, the global spotlight, and the billions in broadcasting revenue that African talent and fans bring to this tournament, but their deep-seated imperial hubris prevents them from treating our people with basic human dignity. Mexico is proving it can host the world with class and honor, while Washington treats a global tournament like a segregated, private club. The world is now wide awake to the fraud
0:14

THIS IS THE ULTIMATE UNMASKING OF THE HOSTS. Look at the reality on the ground in Mexico—the stadiums are packed, the atmosphere is peaceful, and the country is opening its arms to the entire world without fear or prejudice. This is what the World Cup is actually supposed to look like. Mexico is showing true global hospitality, letting the beautiful game unite people across borders, and completely shattering the negative propaganda the Western press loves to spin about the Global South. But look at the staggering, hypocritical contrast just across the northern border. While Mexico creates an open, vibrant celebration, the United States is running a calculated policy of systemic exclusion. They are weaponizing their borders to humiliate the CAF Referee of the Year, Omar Artan, turning him away at the tarmac on completely fabricated, vague "security" whispers. And it’s not an isolated glitch—they’ve mass-denied visas to Côte d'Ivoire’s entire home-based supporters' club because they openly signaled they "do not want to see them" there. The mask has fully dissolved. The U.S. wants the prestige, the global spotlight, and the billions in broadcasting revenue that African talent and fans bring to this tournament, but their deep-seated imperial hubris prevents them from treating our people with basic human dignity. Mexico is proving it can host the world with class and honor, while Washington treats a global tournament like a segregated, private club. The world is now wide awake to the fraud

New Direction AFRICA

421,973 views • 1 month ago

✅Explanation of Meaning (by parts): 1. “Life consists of a sum of moments in the present” : The author begins by defining life as an accumulation of individual moments experienced in the present. This perspective emphasizes that existence is not a distant future or past but a continuous series of nows, each contributing to the whole of one’s life. It underscores the transient nature of time, suggesting that the present is the fundamental building block of human experience. 2. “Therefore, it’s crucial to always focus on the present” : Building on this, the author argues that prioritizing the present moment is essential. By concentrating on the here and now, individuals can fully engage with their immediate experiences, harnessing the potential of each moment to shape their lives meaningfully. This focus counters distractions from past regrets or future anxieties, grounding one’s attention in what is tangible and actionable. 3. “and live fully here and now” : The author advocates for an immersive approach to living, where one embraces each present moment with intensity and authenticity. Living fully implies investing emotional, intellectual, and physical energy into current experiences, whether they involve joy, work, or reflection, to maximize their value and impact. 4. “and the entire life will be productive and worthy” : The author concludes that consistently focusing on and fully living in the present leads to a life that is both productive and meaningful. A life built on intentional, present-focused moments accumulates into a legacy of purpose and worth, suggesting that mindfulness in the now shapes a fulfilling existence over time. 🗝️Main Idea (refined version): The author asserts that life is composed of present moments, making it essential to focus on and fully engage with the here and now to ensure a productive and worthy existence. By prioritizing mindfulness in each moment, individuals can avoid the pitfalls of dwelling on the past or worrying about the future, instead channeling their energy into meaningful actions and experiences. This approach fosters a life of intentionality, where each present moment contributes to a cumulative sense of purpose and fulfillment. Embracing the present not only enhances personal well-being but also cultivates a legacy of value, as the sum of these moments defines a life well-lived, rich with authenticity and achievement.
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✅Explanation of Meaning (by parts): 1. “Life consists of a sum of moments in the present” : The author begins by defining life as an accumulation of individual moments experienced in the present. This perspective emphasizes that existence is not a distant future or past but a continuous series of nows, each contributing to the whole of one’s life. It underscores the transient nature of time, suggesting that the present is the fundamental building block of human experience. 2. “Therefore, it’s crucial to always focus on the present” : Building on this, the author argues that prioritizing the present moment is essential. By concentrating on the here and now, individuals can fully engage with their immediate experiences, harnessing the potential of each moment to shape their lives meaningfully. This focus counters distractions from past regrets or future anxieties, grounding one’s attention in what is tangible and actionable. 3. “and live fully here and now” : The author advocates for an immersive approach to living, where one embraces each present moment with intensity and authenticity. Living fully implies investing emotional, intellectual, and physical energy into current experiences, whether they involve joy, work, or reflection, to maximize their value and impact. 4. “and the entire life will be productive and worthy” : The author concludes that consistently focusing on and fully living in the present leads to a life that is both productive and meaningful. A life built on intentional, present-focused moments accumulates into a legacy of purpose and worth, suggesting that mindfulness in the now shapes a fulfilling existence over time. 🗝️Main Idea (refined version): The author asserts that life is composed of present moments, making it essential to focus on and fully engage with the here and now to ensure a productive and worthy existence. By prioritizing mindfulness in each moment, individuals can avoid the pitfalls of dwelling on the past or worrying about the future, instead channeling their energy into meaningful actions and experiences. This approach fosters a life of intentionality, where each present moment contributes to a cumulative sense of purpose and fulfillment. Embracing the present not only enhances personal well-being but also cultivates a legacy of value, as the sum of these moments defines a life well-lived, rich with authenticity and achievement.

Zafar Mirzo | Quotes

2,173,612 views • 1 year ago

The Circle 🐜 Nobody told the ant about the circle. That, as far as anyone can tell, is the whole problem. A researcher named Kostowski – this was in the early 1970s, at a laboratory in Warsaw that smelled permanently of formaldehyde and institutional coffee – discovered quite by accident that if you draw a continuous line around an ant using a felt-tip pen, the ant will not cross it. It will walk right up to the line, pause with what appears to be genuine philosophical unease, and turn back. It will do this indefinitely. For hours. Sometimes for days. The ant is not stupid. Let’s be clear about that. The creature you are looking at in this photograph – this tiny, improbable machine of chitin and chemical signals, this six-legged marvel that can carry fifty times its own body weight and navigate by polarized light – has a brain roughly the size of a pinhead, and yet that brain contains approximately 250,000 neurons dedicated entirely to making sense of the world. It has survived as a species for 130 million years. It watched the dinosaurs arrive, flourish, and disappear, and then went back to work. And yet here it is. Trapped by a drawing. The reason is chemistry, not cognition. Ants navigate by pheromones – volatile chemical compounds that their legs read like a blind man reads braille. When they encounter the solvent in a felt-tip pen, something in their nervous system fires an alarm. The signal says: boundary. The signal says: edge of the known world. And the ant, loyal to its chemistry in the way that all of us are loyal to ours, obeys. This is the part that stays with you if you think about it too long. The ant’s prison has no walls. No bars. No lock. It is made entirely of information – a chemical whisper laid down by a felt-tip marker – and the ant cannot see past it, because it has no framework for doing so. The circle is not a circle to the ant. The circle is simply: where the world ends. I find myself thinking about this more than is probably healthy. We are, most of us, walking around inside our own circles. They were drawn for us gradually, by parents and teachers and early disappointments, by the limits of what we saw done and the boundaries of what we were told was possible. We bump up against them occasionally – in those moments when a job offer from another city seems too frightening, or a new idea feels somehow presumptuous – and we turn back. Not because anything is stopping us. Because the world, as far as we can tell, simply ends there. The ant in the photograph is walking the inner edge of its circle with a kind of purposeful calm that is almost admirable. It has not given up. It is still looking. It is still moving. It simply cannot conceive of a direction that leads out. Kostowski, for what it’s worth, eventually just picked the ant up and moved it. Sometimes that’s what it takes. Gandalv / Gandalv
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The Circle 🐜 Nobody told the ant about the circle. That, as far as anyone can tell, is the whole problem. A researcher named Kostowski – this was in the early 1970s, at a laboratory in Warsaw that smelled permanently of formaldehyde and institutional coffee – discovered quite by accident that if you draw a continuous line around an ant using a felt-tip pen, the ant will not cross it. It will walk right up to the line, pause with what appears to be genuine philosophical unease, and turn back. It will do this indefinitely. For hours. Sometimes for days. The ant is not stupid. Let’s be clear about that. The creature you are looking at in this photograph – this tiny, improbable machine of chitin and chemical signals, this six-legged marvel that can carry fifty times its own body weight and navigate by polarized light – has a brain roughly the size of a pinhead, and yet that brain contains approximately 250,000 neurons dedicated entirely to making sense of the world. It has survived as a species for 130 million years. It watched the dinosaurs arrive, flourish, and disappear, and then went back to work. And yet here it is. Trapped by a drawing. The reason is chemistry, not cognition. Ants navigate by pheromones – volatile chemical compounds that their legs read like a blind man reads braille. When they encounter the solvent in a felt-tip pen, something in their nervous system fires an alarm. The signal says: boundary. The signal says: edge of the known world. And the ant, loyal to its chemistry in the way that all of us are loyal to ours, obeys. This is the part that stays with you if you think about it too long. The ant’s prison has no walls. No bars. No lock. It is made entirely of information – a chemical whisper laid down by a felt-tip marker – and the ant cannot see past it, because it has no framework for doing so. The circle is not a circle to the ant. The circle is simply: where the world ends. I find myself thinking about this more than is probably healthy. We are, most of us, walking around inside our own circles. They were drawn for us gradually, by parents and teachers and early disappointments, by the limits of what we saw done and the boundaries of what we were told was possible. We bump up against them occasionally – in those moments when a job offer from another city seems too frightening, or a new idea feels somehow presumptuous – and we turn back. Not because anything is stopping us. Because the world, as far as we can tell, simply ends there. The ant in the photograph is walking the inner edge of its circle with a kind of purposeful calm that is almost admirable. It has not given up. It is still looking. It is still moving. It simply cannot conceive of a direction that leads out. Kostowski, for what it’s worth, eventually just picked the ant up and moved it. Sometimes that’s what it takes. Gandalv / Gandalv

Gandalv

28,294 views • 4 months ago