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The Right to LoveBy Christine Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com Winter was fading fast in Piura, Peru, and one blazing afternoon, I found myself scheduled to meet several dozen high school orphans. My group, which included mostly Americans, one Mexican, and a couple Peruvians, had just finished siesta at the parish. Refreshed after journaling and napping, we set out on our next task. The time to load our suitcases full of small gifts had come upon us. A few minutes later, we were piled in our seats and ready for the bumps and thuds of half-paved roads. Along the way, we passed moto taxi after moto taxi and stray dog after stray dog. Perhaps sooner than we had anticipated, the roads began to narrow and become dustier until they were nothing but sandy paths. Dark-haired children chased one another. A kitten mewed from a shallow hole not far from our barreling tires. One man watered the tiny patch of grass outside his home, a yard singular among all the area's yards, which betrayed the city's natural desert habitat. Rubble, graffiti, and garbage were less of an eyesore than a fitting feature of the landscape. At the end of the road lied what resembled a castle, plain but imposing. The white van—a symbol of the church in action—idled outside the fortress in a neighborhood of shacks. Inside, nearly 70 teenage girls eagerly anticipated our arrival, or so we thought. As we waited for someone to open the gates, one of the missionaries pointed at the broken glass bottles lining the top of the 30-foot walls. Just above the shards stood posts holding up rusted barbed wire.
“Look at those,” the missionary said. “How interesting.” “To keep people out,” said another missionary. Then after a beat, “Think of how vulnerable the girls are.” Right on cue, about six girls pulled open the massive gates and a pack of German Shepherds growled and gnashed their teeth at us. The van driver allowed the girls to move away before he pushed past the dogs and onto the orphanage grounds. Though the girls scattered, the dogs would not. The dogs hounded us until the driver parked the van outside of the dining hall and the nuns shooed them away. We poured out of the car, expecting scores of girls to bombard us with hugs and their charming attempts at American English. Instead we met the girls who had opened the gates for us. The rest were at mass. We spent the next hour or so playing soccer and volleyball in the barren courtyard until the rest of the girls returned from mass. That's when the storm of holas and pecks descended upon us. More than one girl threw her arms around me with the clear intent of never letting go. Then the next girl would throw her arms around me so that the former one would be forced to wiggle away. After we had exchanged greetings with the girls, the nuns warned us that a storm was coming and that this neighborhood was dangerous at night. We unzipped our suitcases, distributed the gifts, took photos, and left, much to everyone's disappointment. The dash-and-run didn't really satisfy either party. Two days later, two missionaries and I assisted parish workers as they haggled their way through the produce market. The goal was to budget a donation from an American sponsor so that it would buy enough food to feed the orphans for two to three weeks. The first step was to remove the seats from the van and drive to the market. The next step was to see the vendors the parish frequented and check out their selection. The third step was to bargain, buy, and load food onto the van. After a little more than an hour, the van was packed nearly to the ceiling, bearing everything from sacks of rice to cabbages bigger than my torso. We were filthy, drenched in sweat and covered in dirt, but we had a van worth of groceries to justify every smear on our skin and clothes. Of course, it was the parish workers—not the missionaries—who had made the trip a success. We were but tourists in a place that didn't need or want saving. We were there to learn, not teach. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Bad Kitties of WashingtonBy Kromatic Photography QuailBellMagazine.com With the federal government shutdown, Washingtonians remembered to play over Columbus Day Weekend, a.k.a. D.C. Fetish Weekend. Here's the photographic evidence: The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
When Bloggers From All Over the World UniteDear fledglings,
Did you know that there's such a thing as Blog Action Day? Now you do! Today is the day when bloggers from around the world write on human rights topics. Check out our post later today. Until then, enjoy your day and count your blessings...no matter how annoying your boss is. (It's also Boss's Day, but we're not so keen on that.) Feathery hugs, The Quail Bell Crew The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Relishing Autumn and All its AwesomenessBy M. Alouette QuailBellMagazine.com Editor's Note: This piece is a parody of The Onion's “Mr. Autumn Man Walking Down Street with Cup of Coffee, Wearing Sweater Over Plaid Collared Shirt.”
BALTIMORE—The delightfully curled Wye Oak leaves strewn across a sidewalk not far from Fell's Point's waterfront crunched like a fall time harmony beneath the darling U.O. Boots of Mrs. Autumn Lady, Cherise Marie Bacon, 27, as she walked from gallery to gallery on Saturday, reportedly wearing a burnt orange cardigan over an ironic “Its the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” T-shirt, sipping her Gouter Pumpkin Spice Latte Tonic and enjoying the cool October evening just a little too friggin' much for everyone else's taste as they shivered and rubbed their hands together, begging for summertime. “Nothing beats autumn in the Mid-Atlantic,” said Her Royal Excellency, the Empress of Autumn, who started the day wrapped up in a knitted burgundy blanket she had bought at last year's Baltimore DIY Fest, staring out the window at the Baltimore Harbor and its array of golden-topped trees, as she does every morning this time of year. “Whether you're a professor at Johns Hopkins or an artist at The Patterson, you can smell autumn in Charm City's air,” she said and then sighed with contentment. Then she took another swig of that warm, pie-flavored drink from her yellow “I <3 fall” mug. “I should build a bonfire tonight and invite all the neighbors. We can roast marshmallows and talk about our favorite Halloween costumes or Thanksgiving traditions.” Ms. Autumn, who allegedly adores scarecrows and spaghetti squash, will be taking a trip to Frederick, Maryland with her boyfriend for apple-picking this weekend “before winter turns this place to hell” and “all I can think about are all the times I was dumped over Christmas break in high school and college.” “Winter,” Ms. Autumn began before pausing to adjust her scarf, “sucks.” The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
5 Tips for 'ZinestersBy Starling Root QuailBellMagazine.com The crackling of leaves beneath your Docs and the crisp breeze rustling your DIY scarf can only mean one thing—it's 'zine festival season!
As you may know, this past weekend the Philly Zine Festival took place at The Rotunda, “a community-gathering place that is fueled by the belief that art is a catalyst for social change.” The Houston Zine Fest and the San Diego Zine Fest also meant lots more indie merriment on Saturday. And Canzine Toronto, “Canada's Largest Festival of Zines and Underground Culture,” will take the independent publishing world by storm on Sunday, October 20th. Several more 'zine festivals will round out the year, and surely early 2014 will have its share of 'zine magic, too. (Just look to Stolen Sharpie Revolution for a geographically representative calendar.) Unless you're independently wealthy, have few commitments, and are just damn lucky, chances are you can't make all of these fantastic events. But, hey, it's about quality, not quantity. And while dropping in on a 'zine fest is in and of itself fabulous and rewarding, you more starry-eyed folks might even dream of one day tabling at all of these events. Again, two words: “time” and “money.” It's one thing to go to a 'zine fest and another thing entirely to table at one. You'll definitely need the hours, a budget, and a lot of commitment if you plan on lording over a kick-ass table. Since The Quail Bell Crew is full of 'zine fest veterans, we've come up with a simple guide to tabling intended for novices (cough, cough) fledglings. Here are five tips that will help you enjoy the best tabling experience possible, especially if it's your first: The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Take your holiday with a side of oppression.Dear fledglings,
Can you believe that Columbus Day is nearly over? It's already dinnertime over here in QB HQ. Despite your busy schedule, we hope that you had time today to reflect upon the meaning of this strange holiday. Sure, it's cool that kids are off from school and some of us grown-ups are even off from work. If you're into fake department store sales, you were probably pretty darn pleased with all the coupons that flooded your mailbox for today's "exclusive" use, too. On this day off, maybe you took a nice walk and admired the changing leaves. During your walk, maybe you also thought about Spanish imperialism, religious indoctrination, and the spread of deadly diseases. If not, it might make for cherry dinner conversation. And who cares if it's not actually cheery? Sometimes you've gotta discuss unpleasant things. Rage makes you chew faster and more thoroughly. That's good for your digestive system. Even if it's not, political discourse is good for your brain. With that being said, here are a few conversation starters: • What is Columbus had never "discovered" America? • What if there hadn't been a small pox epidemic in the 15th and 16th centuries? • What if the American Indians had indoctrinated the Europeans? Now let's go set the table. It's chewing hour. Feathery hugs, The Quail Bell Crew The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Bowels of the BoweryBy QB Camera Eye QuailBellMagazine.com This is a view of the portico at St. Mark's Church in the Bowery, one of New York, New York's southernmost neighborhoods. The church is the oldest site of worship in not only Manhattan but all of New York City. St. Mark's is also the resting ground of Peter Stuyvesant, who was the last Dutch Director-General of New Netherland before it became an English colony. Currently St. Mark's portico is being restored; the restoration plan will include a wrap-around ramp for wheelchair accessibility. Not very 18th century, but definitely necessary for a church committed to honoring diversity and acceptance.
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A Modern War of Ancestral SymbolsBy Kontra QuailBellMagazine.com I grew up in the first state ever to secede from the Union. It was on the shore of South Carolina that my parents purchased me the only Confederate flag image I have ever owned: a raft on which I rode the waves of Myrtle and Lion's beaches. Though I only personally handled this symbol during the humid southern summers, it surrounded me at all times. In fact, the Dixie flag flew over the South Carolina statehouse until the dawning of the 21st century, and while it can no longer be seen flapping in the breeze above the capital, it still sits on the lawn of the building. I now live in Richmond, Virginia, a city positively saturated in Civil War history and legend. (Let there be no doubt: I am a Southerner.) It is here, in the capital of the Confederacy, that the ideological warfare surrounding the flag has found its latest incarnation. As fall rolled across the Eastern Seaboard, two symbols were simultaneously hoisted over the city. The first, a Southern Cross raised alongside Interstate 95, which now connects Richmond to the former Union capital of Washington, D.C. It was displayed by the Virginia Flaggers, a group that considers flying the flag “a way to protect and defend all Confederate heritage," openly rejecting the notion that it is, for them, a symbol of racism or slavery. “Heritage not hate," as the saying goes. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Brooklyn or Richmond? We love both!This weekend, The Quail Bell Crew is proving that you can be two places at once. [Insert sci-fi reference of your choice here.] Seek us out either in Brooklyn or Richmond (a.k.a. Brooklyn South) this Saturday. That's right. TOMORROW!
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Of Pirates and PilgrimsBy Christine Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com Once, I started my morning with a carnival by the sea—or at least that makes for a sweet little picture, something to be captured by a Polaroid and pinned onto a bulletin board with Hello Kitty stickers. The day had actually begun with a 57-kilometer pilgrimage whose first step was taken at 8 p.m. the previous night. Twelve and half hours later, the other American missionaries and I found ourselves in Paita, Peru, a seaport in northwestern Peru.
After a night of sand, prayer, and pain, we emerged from the desert. During the night, our stumbling legs had somehow transformed into hemming and hawing throats and mouths—gritty, thirsty, and irritated. Years ago, Our Lady of Mercy had been ambushed and robbed by pirates who slit her throat. Yet she forgave them. And we walked because we forgave and yearned to be forgiven for the times we, too, had been the villains of a tale. Since the other missionaries and I had literally done a marathon without any training, we suffered more than we had imagined we could. Suddenly I was aware of every muscle from my hips to my toes. Even so, it was a beautiful day in Paita, full of smiling faces and celebration. Here are several of the snapshots I took as a bow-legged pilgrim at la Fiesta de Nuestra Señora de las Mercedes: The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Happy birthday to another senseless war!By The Quail Bell Crew QuailBellMagazine.com Today marks the 12th anniversary of the war in Afghanistan and we are not happy about it.
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Smithsonian Awesomeness You Can't Have Because of the Federal Government ShutdownBy Brainy Bird QuailBellMagazine.com Whether you're a native Washingtonian or a D.C. tourist, it is hard to deny the magic of the Smithsonian museums on the National Mall and in Chinatown. I am not talking about the Smithsonian Institution as an institution, with every bureaucratic nuance that thrives there, but about the education and entertainment it brings to the general public at no cost, save for a fraction of your federal tax dollars. Of course, with the current federal government shutdown, enjoying the museums is not a choice right now. Or shall I say it is the choice of the GOP but it is not your choice as a flailing, helpless little individual. The Smithsonian's doors—like many of Washington's doors these days—are shut.
In case you're not frustrated enough, here are 10 awesome Smithsonian exhibits you're missing right now because of the shutdown: 1. “Leonardo da Vinci's Codex on the Flight of Birds” at the National Air & Space Museum 2. “Landscapes in Passing: Photographs by Steve Fitch, Robbert Flick, and Elaine Mayes” the American Art Museum 3. “Little Golden Books” at the American History Museum 4. “Grand Procession: Dolls from the Charles and Valerie Diker Collection” at the American Indian Museum 5. “Korean Style in Japanese Ceramics” at the Freer Gallery 6. “Black Box: Gerco de Ruijter” at the Hirshhorn Museum & Sculpture Garden 7. “Portraits of Planet Ocean: The Photography of Brian Skerry” at the Natural History Museum 8. “One Life: Martin Luther King, Jr.” at the Portrait Gallery 9. “A Measure of Earth: The Cole-Ware Collection of American Baskets” at the Renwick Gallery 10. “Perspectives: Rina Banerjee” at the Sackler Gallery Don't feel left out. Remember that everyone else is missing out on these exhibits, too. Luckily, in preparation for the shutdown, the Smithsonian has changed many of its exhibit closing dates. Catch these shows when you (finally) can. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
If bell hooks ruled the worldBy The Picture Pharmacist QuailBellMagazine.com Dear fledglings, The world would be much better off if certain people were in power instead of some of the folks wearing crowns and clanking their scepters these days. For instance, how much better would the world be if author/feminist/social activist bell hooks ruled the world? Simple: much, much better. Want to see how much better? You'll have to envision that yourself, but you can try to give yourself an idea by downloading this pic of bell hooks, popping it into Photoshop, and putting her shining face literally on top of the world. Choose your favorite Google image of good ol' earth and make a poster of it. It'll cost next to nothing, and you'll have an inspiring face to look at every single day. I'm turning into a real Martha Stewart over here. (You're welcome.) Yours truly, The Picture Pharmacist
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The Evolution Behind the LensesBy Paisley Hibou QuailBellMagazine.com One of my signature identifiers in middle and high school was my pair of unflatteringly large granny glasses. They were not an ironic fashion statement, but a life necessity. Without them, I would literally walk into poles. Once, in fifth grade, not long after I had begun wearing glasses, I tried to pretend I didn't need them and ended up walking into the huge storage bin behind the kickball field. I stumbled back to class in a daze. I reluctantly put on my glasses when the teacher started writing on the chalkboard. To my chagrin, she called on me to solve a math problem before the class. My parade of predictable, dorky awkwardness had commenced. Ditching my glasses when boys came around (in true sitcom style, of course) was not an option. It makes me shudder to think I risked my personal safety and comfort to even try it, but I also know it's normal. Plenty of teenage girls risk their safety, comfort, and even dignity for the attention of boys. It is one of the tragedies of our society. Sometimes I wish someone older and wiser had just told me to be myself, glasses and all. When I look back at photos of myself from high school, I droop a little. Like many teen girls, I didn't see how pretty I was. Though I didn't conform in plenty of other ways—proud of my thrift shop clothes, weird music, and aversion to drugs—I couldn't stand being different for my ugly glasses.
For all kinds of reasons, I did not wear contacts until my senior year of school, when my swan transformation took place. Until then, I loathed my looks. As I trudged from class to class, I adverted the gaze of others, convinced I was hideous. I was Velma in a sea of Daphnes. Once during a high school summer camp, a boy my age plainly asked me, “Why do you hate men?” Confused, I said I did not hate men, and asked him why he thought I did. He said, “Because you never smile.” I rarely smiled because I didn't like how the skin around my eyes crinkled, making them look smaller behind my glasses. But I didn't tell him that. In fact, I don't remember what I said. I only remember feeling flustered and frustrated afterwards. I hated that my thoughts about my appearance affected my confidence and, at times, my ability to be articulate. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Are you ready to click?By Belle Byrd QuailBellMagazine.com Okay, so we know that Quail Bell(e)s are more likely to turn the page of a book than, well, do almost anything else. But admit it—sometimes you feel a little...competitive. Maybe you need to placate that competitive spirit with a good ol'-fashioned game of Monopoly. But last we checked, Monopoly wasn't exactly mobile. So for those days when you need to take it all out on something and there's not a board game in sight, go the electronic route.
Last fall, The Quail Bell Crew released its first game app, Quail Bell Tea Party. (It's temporarily down on the iTunes store, but we promise to have it up again soon.) Quail Bell Tea Party is modeled off of Fruit Ninja. Of course, it has its own Quail Bell spin to it. Your goal is to catch—or not catch—whatever comes flying toward your tea cup. Might a lemon go with your tea? Why, yes! Might an old boot? Probably not. Catch the wrong thing and you might find yourself face to face with Death. It's not all giggles in Quail Bell Landia. Should you need some spice to go with your sugar, might we suggest CastleJackpot.com? It's the place for fans of online slots and casino games. Immerse yourself in the realm of pixies, Cleopatra, or the Golden Goddess. Talk about imaginary, nostalgic, and otherworldly! Go back in time, toy with magic, and win big—if Lady Fortuna is on your side. We'd like to add that you can get your Monopoly fix here, too. Then of course there's Neopets.com. That's a site most of The Quail Bell Crew frequented in middle school. Since we're all about throw-backs, we can't resist reminding you about one of the few things from your middle school past that wasn't awkward. Pick a pet, any pet, give her a name, a whole life, whatever. Uni—the precious unicorn/pegasus 'beastette'—will always hold a special place in our thirteen-year-old hearts. Try out these gaming hotspots and tell us what you think, fledglings. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Profile of a Bohemian Fashion DesignerJoin us for a closer look into the creation of a fashion line with Angela Bacskocky and her line, Nest.
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Here to haunt you again...BOO!Hey fledglings,
Whoopee! We've finally recovered from the Richmond 'Zine Fest (more on that on our 'About' blog), and we're back to creating content. We know you've been hurting since we fluttered off last Thursday—unless of course you visited us in person and picked up a copy of our latest print 'zine. If you haven't seen our latest Photo Tale, "Doll Baby," on 'The Unreal,' scamper real quick. It stars the lovely Miss Theresa Varnier of Cumberland, Virginia. We'll be posting more content soon. And remember—we're always considering submissions. Don't be shy. Send us what you got. Feathery hugs, The Quail Bell Crew The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
'Zine Time All Day SaturdayDear fledglings,
If you have any doubts about how we'll be spending Saturday, October 5th, you're simply not thinking hard enough. This Facebook event says it all. Come visit our table any time between 11 a.m. and 5 p.m. Please don't forget about our 2:30 p.m. workshop, either. We can't wait to see you and show off our latest and greatest! Feathery hugs, The Quail Bell Crew The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Beware the feminine wiles...By Kay Feathers QuailBellMagazine.com Oh, the trope of the femme fatale, that lanky-legged, attention-grabbing, fast-talking man-killer. Cleopatra. Delilah. Jezebel. She is not a woman to waste her sex appeal. It's her weapon and, boy, does she know how to wield it. But not every woman has ovaries made of steel. Some are destined for a less sexy fate. Might that include you? Here are the 7 signs you might not be meant for the life of a femme fatale: 1. The word “sex” not only makes you blush—it makes you vomit. Right in a handsome man's face.
2. You never contemplate your cleavage and would rather others didn't, either. 3. There's no spandex in your wardrobe, not even a Halloween costume. 4. If people had only two choices for describing your voice, they'd go with “prepubescent chipmunk” over “sultry siren” twelve times out of ten. 5. The sound of high heels clacking against the floor reminds you of when you tripped walking across the stage during your college graduation ceremony. You've since only worn “sensible” shoes. 6. You don't wear lipstick. You wear lip balm—when you remember. 7. You really can't stand old detective movies and superhero comics. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Peruvian SouvenirsBy Christine Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com Correctly remembering the name of every place—town, neighborhood, establishment—you visited on a trip in a foreign country whose native tongue is different from your own should earn you a prize of some sort. (Since I lack such ability, I hope the hypothetical prize is only so-so.) When trying to come up with the name Catacoas, a Peruvian town known for "gastronomy and crafts," I had to first do all sorts of word play in my Google search bar. Eventually I got close enough to the name that Google nudged me toward the answer. It was in Catacoas that I went to a marketplace known for knick-knacks and original art. Here are some of the pictures I took while there: The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Be Safe and Stay DryDearest fledglings,
Since we neglected to mention the Colorado flooding last week, we want to issue a delayed response: Egads! Our word! How horrible! To all our feathery friends in Colorado—please be safe, stay dry, and make a story out of it. Once you've secured shelter, may the muse strike. Then scribble away and submit your work to us. (Hey, we're trying hard to put a positive spin on this.) Feathery hugs, The Quail Bell Crew The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Horrible Halloween Movies to Watch This OctoberBy Sidney Shuman QuailBellMagazine.com My favorite Halloween culture consists of truly bad horror movies. You know, the kind where you just cannot believe someone got a budget to make them. They make you laugh, they gross you out, but more importantly they make you want to share the absurdity with all of your friends. So have at it, fledglings, and get into some atrocious movies this October. Here's my top five list of terrible, yet completely watchable, horror movies worth your time. This list is a countdown, from bad to positively horrendous: 5. Schrooms (2007) This horror flick follows the experiences of 3 couples that go to Ireland on a camping retreat and experience the effects of hallucinogenic mushrooms. When the drugs begin to kick in, so does the terror of the story they were told during their travels to the woods. Overall, this is a weird and hilarious movie revolving around couples and drugs.
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5 Things My Father Gave MeBy Luna Lark QuailBellMagazine.com Apparently a recent issue of Elle Magazine called upon readers to name something their grandmother had given them and describe how that magical thing had changed their life. We can probably all imagine how many young ladies will write about a locket, a pin, or silk scarf from Nana. These are nice things, no doubt, but they're also predictable things. So I wanted to write about something perhaps a little less predictable: five things my father has given me. No, I won't write about how my father gave me his hair or his wit. I'm going to go the superficial route and talk about material objects Daddy's given me. Because my father traveled a lot during my childhood, he'd often bring my sisters and me small gifts he'd acquired during his journeys.
I'm also going to be a loaf and not explain how these things have changed my life. I'd like to think that my life has changed because of people and experiences, not merchandise—even if I do love the clothes, books, original art, jewelry and other fantastic presents friends and family have kindly given me since my babyhood. Here, I'm simply indulging nostalgia. Don't say I didn't warn you. Cue Madonna's “Material Girl.” And now for those five things Daddy's give me: The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Hello, Human. I want to eat you now.Tonight we're delving into the deepest, darkest part of the African psyche, where legends and traditions are alive and well. Africa has some fantastic folklore, but today I want to talk about specifically about beliefs in blood-thirsty monsters. So turn on the light and watch the door—here are five creatures from African folklore you wouldn't want to cross alone at night... 5. Sasanbosam Many cultures have their own unique take on the vampire myth but the Sasanbosam is one of the more bizarrely terrifying ones. A particular belief of the Ashanti of Ghana, West Africa, the Sasanbosam is described as a human with bat features, such as a whopping 20-foot wingspan. If that weren't horrifying enough, the creature is also said to have an emaciated and horned body with hooked feet that allows it to ensnare passers-by as it sits in trees...waiting. Oh, and it has teeth made of iron—just in case you weren't already rethinking going outside ever again. 4. Eloko Image Cred: Victor P. Corvella If you go down to the woods tonight, then you'd be buggered if you came across an Eloko. These dwarf-like ancestral spirits are furious with the living, possessing piercing eyes and grass on their bodies rather than hair. According to lore, Biloko (Eloko's plural) live deep in the Zaïre rainforest guarding treasure, which means rare fruits and game to them. Oh, did I mention that their mouths open as wide as the human body, allowing then to eat you whole? Picture that, if you will, and I guarantee you won't be walking through woods anytime soon. Unless you're an expert hunter with an amulet, then you're probably also going to fall under the Eloko's spell cast by the little bells they possess. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Magnet PlayBy Emily Rose QuailBellMagazine.com
Some people believe in soul mates. Some people believe in love at first sight. Others believe that long ago, humans were split into two, destined to spend their lives in search of their "other half." Everyone has a different idea of what love and friendship mean and how they are supposed to come about. The thing is, nothing goes how you think it's supposed to happen. Sometimes, it even ends up better than you could have hoped.
Count how many friends you have. Not Facebook friends or Twitter followers, but real friends you converse with and enjoy spending time around. Now, how many do you consider best friends? The number from the former question to the latter probably decreased by a fair margin. As humans, we like to surround ourselves with people who simply make us happy. Whether it be common interests, quirky traits, romantic attraction or whatever, we enjoy spending our time here on Earth with certain people because they're special to us. Recently, I've been surveying my friendships. I'm not looking to do a clean sweep like a closet being changed over to winter clothing, but some things need a little...altering. In befriending some amazing new people recently, I have discovered some of my older friendships were severely lacking something. What I never realized was how big of a variable I was missing in the whole social equation. Magnetism. |
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