︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ Steph ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿

“And was it true, he asked, the stories of cities contaminated by the water supply, children killed by police with impunity, communities left to fend for themselves against natural disasters as bad as the earthquakes and mudslides this land endured? How could people still think of bring-land as some promised land knowing those things happened there?”
― Patricia Engel, Infinite Country

“Softly as brown-eyed Angels rove
I will return to thy alcove,
And glide upon the night to thee,
Treading the shadows silently.

And I will give to thee, my own,
Kisses as icy as the moon,
And the caresses of a snake
Cold gliding in the thorny brake.

And when returns the livid morn
Thou shalt find all my place forlorn
And chilly, till the falling night.

Others would rule by tenderness
Over thy life and youthfulness,
But I would conquer thee by fright!”
― Charles Baudelaire, Les fleurs du mal

“In Vietnamese, the word for country and the word for water are the same: Nước. Context obviously makes it clear if you're talking about the former or the latter, but in Vietnamese, your country is not the terra firma or the nationality; it's the water. The waters that feed the soil. The waters that lap your shores. If you ask someone where they're from, you're asking them literally from what waters do they come. The county of America is called, in Vietnamese, nước mỹ: the waters of America.”
― Phuc Tran, Sigh, Gone: A Misfit's Memoir of Great Books, Punk Rock, and the Fight to Fit In

“Somehow we've weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn't broken
but simply unfinished. . .
And yes we are far from polished
far from pristine
but that doesn't mean we are
striving to form a union that is perfect
We are striving to forge a union with purpose”
― Amanda Gorman, The Hill We Climb: An Inaugural Poem for the Country