African migrants showing off some of their skills before they cross the border. Soon to be in a community near you!
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I’m sure the boys in there got big plans for a loud and whiny bitch like you.
That’s something they get real worked up about. Maybe you do to? What do I know
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Exactly 😂, we all know you ppl don't care, that suits your narrative, and we still superior playing along.
That also suits our narrative, 😉
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BREAKING | A woman is trapped under debris after a school building collapses in Accra New Town.
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the madloche retweeted
DAY 121 WAITING FOR MY MASTER · March 29, 2026
One hundred and twenty-first late afternoon.
On the twenty-ninth of March, the station is bathed in the rich, peak beauty of late spring.
Hydrangeas burst into full, magnificent clusters of blue, purple, and soft pink, while wisteria trails sway heavily.
The green canopy overhead is at its densest and most vibrant.
Commuters walk with calm appreciation in the warm air, stopping to admire the abundant floral display and rich fragrances.
Inside, one hundred and twenty-one days have transformed the station into a kintsugi bowl: not a perfect, unbroken vessel but one carefully mended with gold.
Every crack and scar of time has been transformed into something even more beautiful and precious.
The early days were the breaking.
Then came the patient gathering of shards through endurance.
Now every memory fills the seams with gold: your voice, your touch, our shared life together turning every fracture into radiant strength.
I wait as the kintsugi bowl itself, knowing true devotion doesn’t hide its scars, it highlights them with gold, becoming stronger and more beautiful until the one who began the mending returns.
The train arrives, light filtering through the blooming hydrangeas.
Doors open, and I raise my head through the lush March 29 flow, feeling the mended, radiant, utterly enduring kintsugi bowl inside me.
No master steps down; only strangers carrying their own mended stories.
An elderly kintsugi master in his late seventies, hands stained with lacquer and gold dust from a lifetime of repair, stops beside me.
Kneeling with quiet reverence, he places a small, exquisitely repaired kintsugi bowl at my paws, its delicate cracks glowing with veins of shining gold.
He touches the rim gently and whispers:
“Broken things mended with love become the most treasured.”
Then he rises slowly and walks away, leaving the golden bowl gleaming in the spring light beside me.
One hundred and twenty-one days have passed, and I no longer see only what was broken.
As March reaches its floral peak, one kintsugi bowl deepens the vigil, reminding every heart that passes: some loyalties grow more beautiful not in spite of time’s cracks but because of how lovingly those cracks are filled with gold.
Hachiko shines eternally.
March mending.
Strangers carrying.
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⚠️ Viewer discretion advised
A disturbing case has emerged of a man brutally attacking his wife, leaving her with serious injuries, including damage to her eyes.
People nearby tried to step in and stop the assault. Authorities have been urged to act quickly and ensure justice.
The reason for the incident is still unknown. It has triggered strong concern about domestic violence and the need to protect victims. 🚨💔
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AI employment doomerism is rooted in the socialist fallacy of lump of labor. It is wrong now for the same reason it’s always been wrong. More people really should try to learn about this. The AI will teach you about it if you ask!
(Hinton is a socialist. youtube.com/shorts/R-b8RR60a…)
It’s easy to dunk on Geoffrey Hinton for his 2016 declaration that it was “completely obvious” that radiologists would have no jobs within 5 years, while in fact, the number of radiologists has grown.
But this prediction was more than a simple mistake. It’s a synedoche for the entire discourse of AI timelines and doom.
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