#story — Public Fediverse posts

HOW DID WE BECOME SO
CONFUSED ABOUT REALITY? 💎

That may be the question A Course in Miracles is really trying to answer. Its answer is almost absurdly simple:

We believed our own interpretation.

In the Course’s story, there is the tiny mad idea of separation, and instead of recognising it as meaningless, the mind takes it seriously. From there come guilt, fear, projection, and, eventually, a world outside ourselves that seems to explain why we feel frightened and divided.

Then the confusion becomes convincing.

The body says, “I am here.” The eyes say, “There is a world out there.” Pain says, “Something outside me has hurt me.” Death says, “Life ends.” And generation after generation inherits the same interpretation and calls it reality.

What I love about ACIM is that it doesn’t ask us to replace one complicated worldview with another. It keeps bringing us back to something much simpler: "Perhaps what I am seeing does not mean what I think it means?"

"I gave everything I see all the meaning it has for me."

That changes everything. Because if reality itself is not broken, then reality does not need repairing. Only perception does. And perhaps even that is too much.

Sometimes the confusion simply stops being fed. The commentary goes quiet.

And reality is still there.

@3goodthings
@DigitalCoup
@meditation
@economics_that_works
@disability
@pwd
@joinin

#ACIM #ACourseInMiracles #Perception #Reality #Forgiveness #Spirituality #InnerPeace #guilt #fear #projection #death #love #body #person #story #confusion

Have I Ever Regretted Reading a Book? Never.

“I have never regretted reading a book. Even the pages that disappointed me taught me something, and even the stories I forgot left me with the joy of having read them.”

Have I ever regretted reading a book?

No.

Not even once.

I sometimes wonder if that sounds strange. Surely, after all these years of reading, there must have been a book I wished I had never opened.

But I honestly can’t remember one.

Because I have always loved to read.

Not just books. Words.

When I was a child, I didn’t need a beautiful library or a carefully chosen novel to keep me occupied. If there was something to read, I would read it.

Anything.

I remember reading old pieces of paper that had been used to wrap smoked fish.

Yes, smoked fish.

While someone was preparing food, I could be standing there reading the words printed on the paper instead of paying attention to what was happening around me.

I didn’t care what the article was about. I didn’t care whether it was an advertisement, an old newspaper story, or something completely irrelevant to a child.

There were words.

And I wanted to know what they said.

Looking back, I think that little girl already understood something about reading that I still believe today:

You don’t have to know where a story will take you to enjoy the journey.

Some books have taken me somewhere wonderful.

Some have surprised me.

Some have challenged the way I think.

Some have broken my heart.

Some have made me laugh out loud.

And yes, some have made me wonder, Why am I still reading this?

But even those books were not wasted time.

A disappointing book can still teach you what you don’t like.

A badly written story can make you appreciate a beautifully written one.

A book you forget can still give you a few quiet hours when you needed an escape.

And sometimes, a book doesn’t have to teach you anything at all.

Sometimes it just needs to keep you company.

That’s one of the things I love most about reading.

There is no guarantee that every book will be extraordinary.

But there is always the possibility that the next one will be.

And that possibility is enough to keep turning the pages.

I don’t read because I want to finish a certain number of books.

I don’t read because I want to impress anyone.

I don’t even read because I believe every book contains some profound life lesson.

I read because I am curious.

I want to know what happens.

I want to know what someone else imagined.

I want to step inside another person’s mind for a while.

I want to travel without packing a suitcase.

I want to meet people who never existed.

I want to visit places I’ve never seen.

And sometimes, I simply want to sit somewhere quiet with a book and let the world become a little less noisy.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never regretted reading a book.

I’ve regretted finishing some books because I wasn’t ready to leave their worlds.

I’ve regretted not having enough time to read.

I’ve regretted leaving a good book at home when I knew I was going to spend hours waiting somewhere.

But reading something that wasn’t perfect?

Never.

Because reading itself has never been a waste for me.

Every book leaves something behind.

A thought.

A question.

A sentence.

A character.

A feeling.

A memory.

Sometimes I remember the entire story.

Sometimes I can’t remember the plot at all, but I remember where I was when I read it.

And sometimes a book becomes part of who I am so quietly that I don’t even realize it until years later.

Perhaps that’s what happens when you grow up loving books.

You stop measuring them by whether they were “good” or “bad.”

You begin to appreciate them for what they gave you.

Even the imperfect ones.

Even the forgettable ones.

Even the ones you struggled to finish.

Because somewhere between the first page and the last, you were learning, imagining, wondering, feeling.

And that is never nothing.

I think about that little girl sometimes.

The one who would happily read the discarded newspaper wrapped around smoked fish.

She didn’t know anything about literary criticism.

She didn’t know about bestsellers or award-winning authors.

She didn’t care about reviews.

She simply saw words and thought:

Tell me something.

I suppose I am still that girl.

Give me a book and I’ll open it.

Give me a page and I’ll read it.

Give me a story and I’ll follow it.

And if you happen to hand me a piece of paper that was just used to wrap smoked fish?

Well…

I’ll probably read that too.

Have I ever regretted reading a book?

No.

Because for me, reading has never really been about finding the perfect book.

It has always been about the joy of discovering what is on the next page.

And there is still nothing quite like that.

💖💖💖

Have I Ever Regretted Reading a Book? Never.

“I have never regretted reading a book. Even the pages that disappointed me taught me something, and even the stories I forgot left me with the joy of having read them.”

Have I ever regretted reading a book?

No.

Not even once.

I sometimes wonder if that sounds strange. Surely, after all these years of reading, there must have been a book I wished I had never opened.

But I honestly can’t remember one.

Because I have always loved to read.

Not just books. Words.

When I was a child, I didn’t need a beautiful library or a carefully chosen novel to keep me occupied. If there was something to read, I would read it.

Anything.

I remember reading old pieces of paper that had been used to wrap smoked fish.

Yes, smoked fish.

While someone was preparing food, I could be standing there reading the words printed on the paper instead of paying attention to what was happening around me.

I didn’t care what the article was about. I didn’t care whether it was an advertisement, an old newspaper story, or something completely irrelevant to a child.

There were words.

And I wanted to know what they said.

Looking back, I think that little girl already understood something about reading that I still believe today:

You don’t have to know where a story will take you to enjoy the journey.

Some books have taken me somewhere wonderful.

Some have surprised me.

Some have challenged the way I think.

Some have broken my heart.

Some have made me laugh out loud.

And yes, some have made me wonder, Why am I still reading this?

But even those books were not wasted time.

A disappointing book can still teach you what you don’t like.

A badly written story can make you appreciate a beautifully written one.

A book you forget can still give you a few quiet hours when you needed an escape.

And sometimes, a book doesn’t have to teach you anything at all.

Sometimes it just needs to keep you company.

That’s one of the things I love most about reading.

There is no guarantee that every book will be extraordinary.

But there is always the possibility that the next one will be.

And that possibility is enough to keep turning the pages.

I don’t read because I want to finish a certain number of books.

I don’t read because I want to impress anyone.

I don’t even read because I believe every book contains some profound life lesson.

I read because I am curious.

I want to know what happens.

I want to know what someone else imagined.

I want to step inside another person’s mind for a while.

I want to travel without packing a suitcase.

I want to meet people who never existed.

I want to visit places I’ve never seen.

And sometimes, I simply want to sit somewhere quiet with a book and let the world become a little less noisy.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never regretted reading a book.

I’ve regretted finishing some books because I wasn’t ready to leave their worlds.

I’ve regretted not having enough time to read.

I’ve regretted leaving a good book at home when I knew I was going to spend hours waiting somewhere.

But reading something that wasn’t perfect?

Never.

Because reading itself has never been a waste for me.

Every book leaves something behind.

A thought.

A question.

A sentence.

A character.

A feeling.

A memory.

Sometimes I remember the entire story.

Sometimes I can’t remember the plot at all, but I remember where I was when I read it.

And sometimes a book becomes part of who I am so quietly that I don’t even realize it until years later.

Perhaps that’s what happens when you grow up loving books.

You stop measuring them by whether they were “good” or “bad.”

You begin to appreciate them for what they gave you.

Even the imperfect ones.

Even the forgettable ones.

Even the ones you struggled to finish.

Because somewhere between the first page and the last, you were learning, imagining, wondering, feeling.

And that is never nothing.

I think about that little girl sometimes.

The one who would happily read the discarded newspaper wrapped around smoked fish.

She didn’t know anything about literary criticism.

She didn’t know about bestsellers or award-winning authors.

She didn’t care about reviews.

She simply saw words and thought:

Tell me something.

I suppose I am still that girl.

Give me a book and I’ll open it.

Give me a page and I’ll read it.

Give me a story and I’ll follow it.

And if you happen to hand me a piece of paper that was just used to wrap smoked fish?

Well…

I’ll probably read that too.

Have I ever regretted reading a book?

No.

Because for me, reading has never really been about finding the perfect book.

It has always been about the joy of discovering what is on the next page.

And there is still nothing quite like that.

💖💖💖

Have I Ever Regretted Reading a Book? Never.

“I have never regretted reading a book. Even the pages that disappointed me taught me something, and even the stories I forgot left me with the joy of having read them.”

Have I ever regretted reading a book?

No.

Not even once.

I sometimes wonder if that sounds strange. Surely, after all these years of reading, there must have been a book I wished I had never opened.

But I honestly can’t remember one.

Because I have always loved to read.

Not just books. Words.

When I was a child, I didn’t need a beautiful library or a carefully chosen novel to keep me occupied. If there was something to read, I would read it.

Anything.

I remember reading old pieces of paper that had been used to wrap smoked fish.

Yes, smoked fish.

While someone was preparing food, I could be standing there reading the words printed on the paper instead of paying attention to what was happening around me.

I didn’t care what the article was about. I didn’t care whether it was an advertisement, an old newspaper story, or something completely irrelevant to a child.

There were words.

And I wanted to know what they said.

Looking back, I think that little girl already understood something about reading that I still believe today:

You don’t have to know where a story will take you to enjoy the journey.

Some books have taken me somewhere wonderful.

Some have surprised me.

Some have challenged the way I think.

Some have broken my heart.

Some have made me laugh out loud.

And yes, some have made me wonder, Why am I still reading this?

But even those books were not wasted time.

A disappointing book can still teach you what you don’t like.

A badly written story can make you appreciate a beautifully written one.

A book you forget can still give you a few quiet hours when you needed an escape.

And sometimes, a book doesn’t have to teach you anything at all.

Sometimes it just needs to keep you company.

That’s one of the things I love most about reading.

There is no guarantee that every book will be extraordinary.

But there is always the possibility that the next one will be.

And that possibility is enough to keep turning the pages.

I don’t read because I want to finish a certain number of books.

I don’t read because I want to impress anyone.

I don’t even read because I believe every book contains some profound life lesson.

I read because I am curious.

I want to know what happens.

I want to know what someone else imagined.

I want to step inside another person’s mind for a while.

I want to travel without packing a suitcase.

I want to meet people who never existed.

I want to visit places I’ve never seen.

And sometimes, I simply want to sit somewhere quiet with a book and let the world become a little less noisy.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never regretted reading a book.

I’ve regretted finishing some books because I wasn’t ready to leave their worlds.

I’ve regretted not having enough time to read.

I’ve regretted leaving a good book at home when I knew I was going to spend hours waiting somewhere.

But reading something that wasn’t perfect?

Never.

Because reading itself has never been a waste for me.

Every book leaves something behind.

A thought.

A question.

A sentence.

A character.

A feeling.

A memory.

Sometimes I remember the entire story.

Sometimes I can’t remember the plot at all, but I remember where I was when I read it.

And sometimes a book becomes part of who I am so quietly that I don’t even realize it until years later.

Perhaps that’s what happens when you grow up loving books.

You stop measuring them by whether they were “good” or “bad.”

You begin to appreciate them for what they gave you.

Even the imperfect ones.

Even the forgettable ones.

Even the ones you struggled to finish.

Because somewhere between the first page and the last, you were learning, imagining, wondering, feeling.

And that is never nothing.

I think about that little girl sometimes.

The one who would happily read the discarded newspaper wrapped around smoked fish.

She didn’t know anything about literary criticism.

She didn’t know about bestsellers or award-winning authors.

She didn’t care about reviews.

She simply saw words and thought:

Tell me something.

I suppose I am still that girl.

Give me a book and I’ll open it.

Give me a page and I’ll read it.

Give me a story and I’ll follow it.

And if you happen to hand me a piece of paper that was just used to wrap smoked fish?

Well…

I’ll probably read that too.

Have I ever regretted reading a book?

No.

Because for me, reading has never really been about finding the perfect book.

It has always been about the joy of discovering what is on the next page.

And there is still nothing quite like that.

💖💖💖

Have I Ever Regretted Reading a Book? Never.

“I have never regretted reading a book. Even the pages that disappointed me taught me something, and even the stories I forgot left me with the joy of having read them.”

Have I ever regretted reading a book?

No.

Not even once.

I sometimes wonder if that sounds strange. Surely, after all these years of reading, there must have been a book I wished I had never opened.

But I honestly can’t remember one.

Because I have always loved to read.

Not just books. Words.

When I was a child, I didn’t need a beautiful library or a carefully chosen novel to keep me occupied. If there was something to read, I would read it.

Anything.

I remember reading old pieces of paper that had been used to wrap smoked fish.

Yes, smoked fish.

While someone was preparing food, I could be standing there reading the words printed on the paper instead of paying attention to what was happening around me.

I didn’t care what the article was about. I didn’t care whether it was an advertisement, an old newspaper story, or something completely irrelevant to a child.

There were words.

And I wanted to know what they said.

Looking back, I think that little girl already understood something about reading that I still believe today:

You don’t have to know where a story will take you to enjoy the journey.

Some books have taken me somewhere wonderful.

Some have surprised me.

Some have challenged the way I think.

Some have broken my heart.

Some have made me laugh out loud.

And yes, some have made me wonder, Why am I still reading this?

But even those books were not wasted time.

A disappointing book can still teach you what you don’t like.

A badly written story can make you appreciate a beautifully written one.

A book you forget can still give you a few quiet hours when you needed an escape.

And sometimes, a book doesn’t have to teach you anything at all.

Sometimes it just needs to keep you company.

That’s one of the things I love most about reading.

There is no guarantee that every book will be extraordinary.

But there is always the possibility that the next one will be.

And that possibility is enough to keep turning the pages.

I don’t read because I want to finish a certain number of books.

I don’t read because I want to impress anyone.

I don’t even read because I believe every book contains some profound life lesson.

I read because I am curious.

I want to know what happens.

I want to know what someone else imagined.

I want to step inside another person’s mind for a while.

I want to travel without packing a suitcase.

I want to meet people who never existed.

I want to visit places I’ve never seen.

And sometimes, I simply want to sit somewhere quiet with a book and let the world become a little less noisy.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never regretted reading a book.

I’ve regretted finishing some books because I wasn’t ready to leave their worlds.

I’ve regretted not having enough time to read.

I’ve regretted leaving a good book at home when I knew I was going to spend hours waiting somewhere.

But reading something that wasn’t perfect?

Never.

Because reading itself has never been a waste for me.

Every book leaves something behind.

A thought.

A question.

A sentence.

A character.

A feeling.

A memory.

Sometimes I remember the entire story.

Sometimes I can’t remember the plot at all, but I remember where I was when I read it.

And sometimes a book becomes part of who I am so quietly that I don’t even realize it until years later.

Perhaps that’s what happens when you grow up loving books.

You stop measuring them by whether they were “good” or “bad.”

You begin to appreciate them for what they gave you.

Even the imperfect ones.

Even the forgettable ones.

Even the ones you struggled to finish.

Because somewhere between the first page and the last, you were learning, imagining, wondering, feeling.

And that is never nothing.

I think about that little girl sometimes.

The one who would happily read the discarded newspaper wrapped around smoked fish.

She didn’t know anything about literary criticism.

She didn’t know about bestsellers or award-winning authors.

She didn’t care about reviews.

She simply saw words and thought:

Tell me something.

I suppose I am still that girl.

Give me a book and I’ll open it.

Give me a page and I’ll read it.

Give me a story and I’ll follow it.

And if you happen to hand me a piece of paper that was just used to wrap smoked fish?

Well…

I’ll probably read that too.

Have I ever regretted reading a book?

No.

Because for me, reading has never really been about finding the perfect book.

It has always been about the joy of discovering what is on the next page.

And there is still nothing quite like that.

💖💖💖

Have I Ever Regretted Reading a Book? Never.

“I have never regretted reading a book. Even the pages that disappointed me taught me something, and even the stories I forgot left me with the joy of having read them.”

Have I ever regretted reading a book?

No.

Not even once.

I sometimes wonder if that sounds strange. Surely, after all these years of reading, there must have been a book I wished I had never opened.

But I honestly can’t remember one.

Because I have always loved to read.

Not just books. Words.

When I was a child, I didn’t need a beautiful library or a carefully chosen novel to keep me occupied. If there was something to read, I would read it.

Anything.

I remember reading old pieces of paper that had been used to wrap smoked fish.

Yes, smoked fish.

While someone was preparing food, I could be standing there reading the words printed on the paper instead of paying attention to what was happening around me.

I didn’t care what the article was about. I didn’t care whether it was an advertisement, an old newspaper story, or something completely irrelevant to a child.

There were words.

And I wanted to know what they said.

Looking back, I think that little girl already understood something about reading that I still believe today:

You don’t have to know where a story will take you to enjoy the journey.

Some books have taken me somewhere wonderful.

Some have surprised me.

Some have challenged the way I think.

Some have broken my heart.

Some have made me laugh out loud.

And yes, some have made me wonder, Why am I still reading this?

But even those books were not wasted time.

A disappointing book can still teach you what you don’t like.

A badly written story can make you appreciate a beautifully written one.

A book you forget can still give you a few quiet hours when you needed an escape.

And sometimes, a book doesn’t have to teach you anything at all.

Sometimes it just needs to keep you company.

That’s one of the things I love most about reading.

There is no guarantee that every book will be extraordinary.

But there is always the possibility that the next one will be.

And that possibility is enough to keep turning the pages.

I don’t read because I want to finish a certain number of books.

I don’t read because I want to impress anyone.

I don’t even read because I believe every book contains some profound life lesson.

I read because I am curious.

I want to know what happens.

I want to know what someone else imagined.

I want to step inside another person’s mind for a while.

I want to travel without packing a suitcase.

I want to meet people who never existed.

I want to visit places I’ve never seen.

And sometimes, I simply want to sit somewhere quiet with a book and let the world become a little less noisy.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never regretted reading a book.

I’ve regretted finishing some books because I wasn’t ready to leave their worlds.

I’ve regretted not having enough time to read.

I’ve regretted leaving a good book at home when I knew I was going to spend hours waiting somewhere.

But reading something that wasn’t perfect?

Never.

Because reading itself has never been a waste for me.

Every book leaves something behind.

A thought.

A question.

A sentence.

A character.

A feeling.

A memory.

Sometimes I remember the entire story.

Sometimes I can’t remember the plot at all, but I remember where I was when I read it.

And sometimes a book becomes part of who I am so quietly that I don’t even realize it until years later.

Perhaps that’s what happens when you grow up loving books.

You stop measuring them by whether they were “good” or “bad.”

You begin to appreciate them for what they gave you.

Even the imperfect ones.

Even the forgettable ones.

Even the ones you struggled to finish.

Because somewhere between the first page and the last, you were learning, imagining, wondering, feeling.

And that is never nothing.

I think about that little girl sometimes.

The one who would happily read the discarded newspaper wrapped around smoked fish.

She didn’t know anything about literary criticism.

She didn’t know about bestsellers or award-winning authors.

She didn’t care about reviews.

She simply saw words and thought:

Tell me something.

I suppose I am still that girl.

Give me a book and I’ll open it.

Give me a page and I’ll read it.

Give me a story and I’ll follow it.

And if you happen to hand me a piece of paper that was just used to wrap smoked fish?

Well…

I’ll probably read that too.

Have I ever regretted reading a book?

No.

Because for me, reading has never really been about finding the perfect book.

It has always been about the joy of discovering what is on the next page.

And there is still nothing quite like that.

💖💖💖

🌄 Twilight Years Care Home, an abandoned and collapsing residence for senior citizens. Somewhere in England.

#England #Story #Photography #Abandoned #Forgotten #Decay #LostPlaces

🌄 Twilight Years Care Home, an abandoned and collapsing residence for senior citizens. Somewhere in England.

#England #Story #Photography #Abandoned #Forgotten #Decay #LostPlaces

🌄 Twilight Years Care Home, an abandoned and collapsing residence for senior citizens. Somewhere in England.

#England #Story #Photography #Abandoned #Forgotten #Decay #LostPlaces

🌄 Twilight Years Care Home, an abandoned and collapsing residence for senior citizens. Somewhere in England.

#England #Story #Photography #Abandoned #Forgotten #Decay #LostPlaces

🌄 Twilight Years Care Home, an abandoned and collapsing residence for senior citizens. Somewhere in England.

#England #Story #Photography #Abandoned #Forgotten #Decay #LostPlaces

Are you ready for the world of The Stellar?! Coming soon to the Solarpunk Presents podcast feed & as exclusive SP Patreon content: The Stellar: Origins.

A world in climate peril with secret societies, alternate histories, growing telepathy, and climate goals to reach. Follow the stories of the characters in our Patreon exclusive for $5 CAD showing the Lunarpunk world where magic is growing and the planet needs saving.

Based in the world of The Stellar #TTRPG from @fastfrwrd

https://fastfrwrd.info/the-stellar-%C2%A4-lunarpunk-ttrpg-%E2%98%86/

#solarpunk #lunarpunk #eco #green #climatechange #climatecrisis
#environment #planet #story

Are you ready for the world of The Stellar?! Coming soon to the Solarpunk Presents podcast feed & as exclusive SP Patreon content: The Stellar: Origins.

A world in climate peril with secret societies, alternate histories, growing telepathy, and climate goals to reach. Follow the stories of the characters in our Patreon exclusive for $5 CAD showing the Lunarpunk world where magic is growing and the planet needs saving.

Based in the world of The Stellar #TTRPG from @fastfrwrd

https://fastfrwrd.info/the-stellar-%C2%A4-lunarpunk-ttrpg-%E2%98%86/

#solarpunk #lunarpunk #eco #green #climatechange #climatecrisis
#environment #planet #story

Are you ready for the world of The Stellar?! Coming soon to the Solarpunk Presents podcast feed & as exclusive SP Patreon content: The Stellar: Origins.

A world in climate peril with secret societies, alternate histories, growing telepathy, and climate goals to reach. Follow the stories of the characters in our Patreon exclusive for $5 CAD showing the Lunarpunk world where magic is growing and the planet needs saving.

Based in the world of The Stellar #TTRPG from @fastfrwrd

https://fastfrwrd.info/the-stellar-%C2%A4-lunarpunk-ttrpg-%E2%98%86/

#solarpunk #lunarpunk #eco #green #climatechange #climatecrisis
#environment #planet #story

Are you ready for the world of The Stellar?! Coming soon to the Solarpunk Presents podcast feed & as exclusive SP Patreon content: The Stellar: Origins.

A world in climate peril with secret societies, alternate histories, growing telepathy, and climate goals to reach. Follow the stories of the characters in our Patreon exclusive for $5 CAD showing the Lunarpunk world where magic is growing and the planet needs saving.

Based in the world of The Stellar #TTRPG from @fastfrwrd

https://fastfrwrd.info/the-stellar-%C2%A4-lunarpunk-ttrpg-%E2%98%86/

#solarpunk #lunarpunk #eco #green #climatechange #climatecrisis
#environment #planet #story

Are you ready for the world of The Stellar?! Coming soon to the Solarpunk Presents podcast feed & as exclusive SP Patreon content: The Stellar: Origins.

A world in climate peril with secret societies, alternate histories, growing telepathy, and climate goals to reach. Follow the stories of the characters in our Patreon exclusive for $5 CAD showing the Lunarpunk world where magic is growing and the planet needs saving.

Based in the world of The Stellar #TTRPG from @fastfrwrd

https://fastfrwrd.info/the-stellar-%C2%A4-lunarpunk-ttrpg-%E2%98%86/

#solarpunk #lunarpunk #eco #green #climatechange #climatecrisis
#environment #planet #story

https://www.europesays.com/no/347447/ Eiker, Film | Renate Reinsve klar for ny storfilm #art #eiker #Entertainment #Film #kultur #NO #Norge #Norway #RenateReinsve #story #Underholdning

"The League" (short story):
I don't know when it happened. All days and nights feel like the exact same, so time for me is confusing. I just woke up here one morning.

Inside this cage, you can't really talk. Privacy is nonexistent. We only communicate by using our hands and gestures. And sometimes thru sarcasm. We don't want to be punished, and we treasure silence. Noises don't let us know what the guys outside are whispering.

I realized not long ago that the guards outside are just mannequins though. But that can only mean the spies are among us. I doubt they'd ever hesitate to tell on us. That's why we can't trust nobody inside the cage. I have no friends. The whispers we hear come from very modern sound systems, installed on top of the cage.

Sometimes we eat, maybe once a week. And if we need to go to the bathroom, we do it inside the cage, with everybody looking. Yet, it's been a while since people saw me there: we have developed some implicit codes, which make us look away when people do it. That doesn't include eating tho. Eating while others starve and beg with their eyes take all pleasure away.

The only way to earn the food is by playing in what we called "the league". Every week, white pieces of paper fall inside the cage with some instructions. They're limited in number tho, so you must fight others to read one first.

After reading them and yelling "I got it", there's no way back. You must finish the task, it does not matter what it is, and if someone fought you they might feel lucky about losing once in a while, since some tasks are humiliating.

But that's the only way we can get food. Some tasks are nice, easy, but you'll only get two tiny tasteless pieces of "super bread" for them. It's always humiliating in one way or another. We just try to make things the least terrible here.

I have seen people who were good friends in the past fight for a piece of paper, then get mad at each other because one won the fight yet the other laughs due to the contents of the note. I've also seen people throw notes away after winning, because they ate well last time and the new task would give them bad food.

Sometimes, I remember what this circus was like before the cage. Sometimes, even after all these years, I remember the names we called similar tasks. Sometimes, I have dreams in which I'm reading one on a screen, but there was no one I could fight to take it, even though I would. In the old days, enough money could buy me any food I wanted, and all I had to do was to press a button and wait.

We used to call it "applying". The button used to say "send CV". The tasks were performed every day for months. Whoever did a specific task had a special name, a "profession". Yet, I remember we all looked different: fat, palid.

What? Do you mind if I tell you what I can remember? Oh, you've got a batch under this... NO! HELP! Hey everybody, look! A paper! I got food in here! HELP ME! Don't let this son of a... Let me go! You need that much backup for just me, coward? Somebody help me! I don't want to become super bread! Please, anybody!

#capitalism #socialism #jobmarket #jobs #jobsearch #america #economy #politics #venezuela #storytelling #story #horrorbooks #horror #entertainment #writer #art #poetry

"The League" (short story):
I don't know when it happened. All days and nights feel like the exact same, so time for me is confusing. I just woke up here one morning.

Inside this cage, you can't really talk. Privacy is nonexistent. We only communicate by using our hands and gestures. And sometimes thru sarcasm. We don't want to be punished, and we treasure silence. Noises don't let us know what the guys outside are whispering.

I realized not long ago that the guards outside are just mannequins though. But that can only mean the spies are among us. I doubt they'd ever hesitate to tell on us. That's why we can't trust nobody inside the cage. I have no friends. The whispers we hear come from very modern sound systems, installed on top of the cage.

Sometimes we eat, maybe once a week. And if we need to go to the bathroom, we do it inside the cage, with everybody looking. Yet, it's been a while since people saw me there: we have developed some implicit codes, which make us look away when people do it. That doesn't include eating tho. Eating while others starve and beg with their eyes take all pleasure away.

The only way to earn the food is by playing in what we called "the league". Every week, white pieces of paper fall inside the cage with some instructions. They're limited in number tho, so you must fight others to read one first.

After reading them and yelling "I got it", there's no way back. You must finish the task, it does not matter what it is, and if someone fought you they might feel lucky about losing once in a while, since some tasks are humiliating.

But that's the only way we can get food. Some tasks are nice, easy, but you'll only get two tiny tasteless pieces of "super bread" for them. It's always humiliating in one way or another. We just try to make things the least terrible here.

I have seen people who were good friends in the past fight for a piece of paper, then get mad at each other because one won the fight yet the other laughs due to the contents of the note. I've also seen people throw notes away after winning, because they ate well last time and the new task would give them bad food.

Sometimes, I remember what this circus was like before the cage. Sometimes, even after all these years, I remember the names we called similar tasks. Sometimes, I have dreams in which I'm reading one on a screen, but there was no one I could fight to take it, even though I would. In the old days, enough money could buy me any food I wanted, and all I had to do was to press a button and wait.

We used to call it "applying". The button used to say "send CV". The tasks were performed every day for months. Whoever did a specific task had a special name, a "profession". Yet, I remember we all looked different: fat, palid.

What? Do you mind if I tell you what I can remember? Oh, you've got a batch under this... NO! HELP! Hey everybody, look! A paper! I got food in here! HELP ME! Don't let this son of a... Let me go! You need that much backup for just me, coward? Somebody help me! I don't want to become super bread! Please, anybody!

#capitalism #socialism #jobmarket #jobs #jobsearch #america #economy #politics #venezuela #storytelling #story #horrorbooks #horror #entertainment #writer #art #poetry

"The League" (short story):
I don't know when it happened. All days and nights feel like the exact same, so time for me is confusing. I just woke up here one morning.

Inside this cage, you can't really talk. Privacy is nonexistent. We only communicate by using our hands and gestures. And sometimes thru sarcasm. We don't want to be punished, and we treasure silence. Noises don't let us know what the guys outside are whispering.

I realized not long ago that the guards outside are just mannequins though. But that can only mean the spies are among us. I doubt they'd ever hesitate to tell on us. That's why we can't trust nobody inside the cage. I have no friends. The whispers we hear come from very modern sound systems, installed on top of the cage.

Sometimes we eat, maybe once a week. And if we need to go to the bathroom, we do it inside the cage, with everybody looking. Yet, it's been a while since people saw me there: we have developed some implicit codes, which make us look away when people do it. That doesn't include eating tho. Eating while others starve and beg with their eyes take all pleasure away.

The only way to earn the food is by playing in what we called "the league". Every week, white pieces of paper fall inside the cage with some instructions. They're limited in number tho, so you must fight others to read one first.

After reading them and yelling "I got it", there's no way back. You must finish the task, it does not matter what it is, and if someone fought you they might feel lucky about losing once in a while, since some tasks are humiliating.

But that's the only way we can get food. Some tasks are nice, easy, but you'll only get two tiny tasteless pieces of "super bread" for them. It's always humiliating in one way or another. We just try to make things the least terrible here.

I have seen people who were good friends in the past fight for a piece of paper, then get mad at each other because one won the fight yet the other laughs due to the contents of the note. I've also seen people throw notes away after winning, because they ate well last time and the new task would give them bad food.

Sometimes, I remember what this circus was like before the cage. Sometimes, even after all these years, I remember the names we called similar tasks. Sometimes, I have dreams in which I'm reading one on a screen, but there was no one I could fight to take it, even though I would. In the old days, enough money could buy me any food I wanted, and all I had to do was to press a button and wait.

We used to call it "applying". The button used to say "send CV". The tasks were performed every day for months. Whoever did a specific task had a special name, a "profession". Yet, I remember we all looked different: fat, palid.

What? Do you mind if I tell you what I can remember? Oh, you've got a batch under this... NO! HELP! Hey everybody, look! A paper! I got food in here! HELP ME! Don't let this son of a... Let me go! You need that much backup for just me, coward? Somebody help me! I don't want to become super bread! Please, anybody!

#capitalism #socialism #jobmarket #jobs #jobsearch #america #economy #politics #venezuela #storytelling #story #horrorbooks #horror #entertainment #writer #art #poetry

"The League" (short story):
I don't know when it happened. All days and nights feel like the exact same, so time for me is confusing. I just woke up here one morning.

Inside this cage, you can't really talk. Privacy is nonexistent. We only communicate by using our hands and gestures. And sometimes thru sarcasm. We don't want to be punished, and we treasure silence. Noises don't let us know what the guys outside are whispering.

I realized not long ago that the guards outside are just mannequins though. But that can only mean the spies are among us. I doubt they'd ever hesitate to tell on us. That's why we can't trust nobody inside the cage. I have no friends. The whispers we hear come from very modern sound systems, installed on top of the cage.

Sometimes we eat, maybe once a week. And if we need to go to the bathroom, we do it inside the cage, with everybody looking. Yet, it's been a while since people saw me there: we have developed some implicit codes, which make us look away when people do it. That doesn't include eating tho. Eating while others starve and beg with their eyes take all pleasure away.

The only way to earn the food is by playing in what we called "the league". Every week, white pieces of paper fall inside the cage with some instructions. They're limited in number tho, so you must fight others to read one first.

After reading them and yelling "I got it", there's no way back. You must finish the task, it does not matter what it is, and if someone fought you they might feel lucky about losing once in a while, since some tasks are humiliating.

But that's the only way we can get food. Some tasks are nice, easy, but you'll only get two tiny tasteless pieces of "super bread" for them. It's always humiliating in one way or another. We just try to make things the least terrible here.

I have seen people who were good friends in the past fight for a piece of paper, then get mad at each other because one won the fight yet the other laughs due to the contents of the note. I've also seen people throw notes away after winning, because they ate well last time and the new task would give them bad food.

Sometimes, I remember what this circus was like before the cage. Sometimes, even after all these years, I remember the names we called similar tasks. Sometimes, I have dreams in which I'm reading one on a screen, but there was no one I could fight to take it, even though I would. In the old days, enough money could buy me any food I wanted, and all I had to do was to press a button and wait.

We used to call it "applying". The button used to say "send CV". The tasks were performed every day for months. Whoever did a specific task had a special name, a "profession". Yet, I remember we all looked different: fat, palid.

What? Do you mind if I tell you what I can remember? Oh, you've got a batch under this... NO! HELP! Hey everybody, look! A paper! I got food in here! HELP ME! Don't let this son of a... Let me go! You need that much backup for just me, coward? Somebody help me! I don't want to become super bread! Please, anybody!

#capitalism #socialism #jobmarket #jobs #jobsearch #america #economy #politics #venezuela #storytelling #story #horrorbooks #horror #entertainment #writer #art #poetry

"The League" (short story):
I don't know when it happened. All days and nights feel like the exact same, so time for me is confusing. I just woke up here one morning.

Inside this cage, you can't really talk. Privacy is nonexistent. We only communicate by using our hands and gestures. And sometimes thru sarcasm. We don't want to be punished, and we treasure silence. Noises don't let us know what the guys outside are whispering.

I realized not long ago that the guards outside are just mannequins though. But that can only mean the spies are among us. I doubt they'd ever hesitate to tell on us. That's why we can't trust nobody inside the cage. I have no friends. The whispers we hear come from very modern sound systems, installed on top of the cage.

Sometimes we eat, maybe once a week. And if we need to go to the bathroom, we do it inside the cage, with everybody looking. Yet, it's been a while since people saw me there: we have developed some implicit codes, which make us look away when people do it. That doesn't include eating tho. Eating while others starve and beg with their eyes take all pleasure away.

The only way to earn the food is by playing in what we called "the league". Every week, white pieces of paper fall inside the cage with some instructions. They're limited in number tho, so you must fight others to read one first.

After reading them and yelling "I got it", there's no way back. You must finish the task, it does not matter what it is, and if someone fought you they might feel lucky about losing once in a while, since some tasks are humiliating.

But that's the only way we can get food. Some tasks are nice, easy, but you'll only get two tiny tasteless pieces of "super bread" for them. It's always humiliating in one way or another. We just try to make things the least terrible here.

I have seen people who were good friends in the past fight for a piece of paper, then get mad at each other because one won the fight yet the other laughs due to the contents of the note. I've also seen people throw notes away after winning, because they ate well last time and the new task would give them bad food.

Sometimes, I remember what this circus was like before the cage. Sometimes, even after all these years, I remember the names we called similar tasks. Sometimes, I have dreams in which I'm reading one on a screen, but there was no one I could fight to take it, even though I would. In the old days, enough money could buy me any food I wanted, and all I had to do was to press a button and wait.

We used to call it "applying". The button used to say "send CV". The tasks were performed every day for months. Whoever did a specific task had a special name, a "profession". Yet, I remember we all looked different: fat, palid.

What? Do you mind if I tell you what I can remember? Oh, you've got a batch under this... NO! HELP! Hey everybody, look! A paper! I got food in here! HELP ME! Don't let this son of a... Let me go! You need that much backup for just me, coward? Somebody help me! I don't want to become super bread! Please, anybody!

#capitalism #socialism #jobmarket #jobs #jobsearch #america #economy #politics #venezuela #storytelling #story #horrorbooks #horror #entertainment #writer #art #poetry

https://www.europesays.com/no/347221/ Skole, Trondheim | Vil ha totalforbud i Trondheim: – Kan ikke ha et kamera på hodet #art #BreakingNews #BreakingNews #FeaturedNews #FeaturedNews #Headlines #LatestNews #LatestNews #News #NO #Norge #Norway #Nyheter #Overskrifter #politikk #skole #story #TopStories #TopStories #Trondheim

I've wrote the 5th chapter of my gay futuristic romance story.

Although to be fair the more I write the more it just sounds like an early to mid 20thc period novel thing.

It's in the future but like a lowkey boring ass future where everyone pretty much has the same accent but everyone's home planet has a different clothing sizes fsr.

#wattpad #story #novel #writer #writing

https://www.wattpad.com/story/412895520-something-about-her

I've wrote the 5th chapter of my gay futuristic romance story.

Although to be fair the more I write the more it just sounds like an early to mid 20thc period novel thing.

It's in the future but like a lowkey boring ass future where everyone pretty much has the same accent but everyone's home planet has a different clothing sizes fsr.

#wattpad #story #novel #writer #writing

https://www.wattpad.com/story/412895520-something-about-her

I've wrote the 5th chapter of my gay futuristic romance story.

Although to be fair the more I write the more it just sounds like an early to mid 20thc period novel thing.

It's in the future but like a lowkey boring ass future where everyone pretty much has the same accent but everyone's home planet has a different clothing sizes fsr.

#wattpad #story #novel #writer #writing

https://www.wattpad.com/story/412895520-something-about-her

I've wrote the 5th chapter of my gay futuristic romance story.

Although to be fair the more I write the more it just sounds like an early to mid 20thc period novel thing.

It's in the future but like a lowkey boring ass future where everyone pretty much has the same accent but everyone's home planet has a different clothing sizes fsr.

#wattpad #story #novel #writer #writing

https://www.wattpad.com/story/412895520-something-about-her

I've wrote the 5th chapter of my gay futuristic romance story.

Although to be fair the more I write the more it just sounds like an early to mid 20thc period novel thing.

It's in the future but like a lowkey boring ass future where everyone pretty much has the same accent but everyone's home planet has a different clothing sizes fsr.

#wattpad #story #novel #writer #writing

https://www.wattpad.com/story/412895520-something-about-her

https://www.europesays.com/no/347169/ Sport, Nyhet | Økonomisk krise i Sparta – reell fare for konkurs #art #BreakingNews #BreakingNews #FeaturedNews #FeaturedNews #Headlines #Ishockey #LatestNews #LatestNews #News #NO #Norge #Norway #nyhet #Nyheter #Overskrifter #SpartaSarpsborg #Sport #story #TopStories #TopStories

Iran war latest: Tehran says it will act against vessels beyond Strait of Hormuz

Oman says it evacuated 16 crew members of Saudi Sidr vessel attacked by IranGhalibaf warns US: Strike Iran’s…
#NewsBeep #News #BreakingNews #breakingnews #DigitalTeam #Iran #Israel #Live #news-blog #story #Us
https://www.newsbeep.com/722452/

https://www.esdrama.com/112073/ En plena discusión empujaron a la chica, pero su héroe llegó justo a tiempo. | iQIYI Spanish #shorts #amistad #amor #CEO #CienciaFicción #Comedia #comediaromántica #cortometraje #drama #dramabox #dramacorto #dramaromántico #familia #Fantasía #Historia #humor #iQIYI #minidrama #miniserie #Misterio #relaciones #romance #sériedetv #serieschinas #serieschinasenespañol #serieweb #shortdrama #story #suspenso #teatro #thriller #Traición #tvshow #venganza #webserie

https://www.europesays.com/iran/282272/ Qatar insists Strait of Hormuz will remain vital to global economy even as alternative routes emerge #ForeignDeskTeam #GCC #Hormuz #Iran #Qatar #standard #story #StraitOfHormuz #US

Кот, ты меня послушай #humor #music #animals #story #shorts

Кот, ты меня послушай #humor #music #animals #story #shorts

Кот, ты меня послушай #humor #music #animals #story #shorts

Кот, ты меня послушай #humor #music #animals #story #shorts

Кот, ты меня послушай #humor #music #animals #story #shorts

https://www.europesays.com/no/346973/ Tyssedal, Kraftmuseet | Gjør deg klar for en vanvittig konsertopplevelse i «kraftkatedralen» #art #Entertainment #kraftmuseet #NO #Norge #Norway #odda #story #tyssedal #ullensvang #Underholdning

Не повезло ... повезло #humor #music #incident #story #shorts

Не повезло ... повезло #humor #music #incident #story #shorts

Не повезло ... повезло #humor #music #incident #story #shorts

Не повезло ... повезло #humor #music #incident #story #shorts

Не повезло ... повезло #humor #music #incident #story #shorts

Я танцую для тебя #humor #music #fox #story #shorts

https://www.europesays.com/no/346885/ Sparta, Økonomi | Dramatisk beskjed fra Sparta: Fare for konkurs – jobber intensivt med kriseplan #art #BreakingNews #BreakingNews #FeaturedNews #FeaturedNews #Headlines #Ishockey #LatestNews #LatestNews #News #NO #Norge #Norway #Nyheter #Overskrifter #økonomi #sparta #story #TopStories #TopStories

https://www.europesays.com/no/346817/ Sport, Motorsport | Kåret til årets nykommer – siste løp ble et mareritt #art #aurskog #DennisHauger #indycar #Motorsport #NO #Norge #Norway #Sport #Sports #story

Мой хвост #humor #music #leopard #story #shorts