"When we were little, we played 'name the caliber of this bomb.' It sounds odd, but when you grow up in a war-torn zone, those are your games that you play as a kid."
The first half of the movie plays out as an intimate chamber piece between Mary and Sam, the two of them rehashing long-buried grudges and betrayals, as we get occasional flashes to Mary's extravagant concert performances.
Misha had survived the destruction of Mariupol. He had lost friends, relatives, his home, his school, the nearby public park where he used to hang out with his friends. Almost everything that had once made life feel solid and knowable had been taken from him.
For years, I had absorbed the chaos. I had made myself smaller, quieter, more accommodating. I had convinced myself that if I could just love harder, be better, try more, something would change. But in that moment, watching my child suffer at the hands of the man who was supposed to protect him, I understood with absolute clarity that nothing I did would ever be enough to fix this.
Martha carries her son Aaron, who is unable to walk or talk, while she works in the fields. She states, 'Aaron is so weak, so I have to carry him from the house and lay him somewhere so I can work.' This highlights the daily struggles she faces in balancing her responsibilities as a mother and a worker.
I used to think I was over my startup failure. That was three years ago, ancient history, right? Yet every time I pitched a new idea to someone, my hands would shake. Every investor meeting felt like walking into that same room where I had to tell my team we were shutting down. My body remembered what my mind tried to forget. That's when Bruce Springsteen's words hit me like a freight train: "The past is never the past. It is always present. And you'd better reckon with it in your life and in your daily experience, or it will get you. It will get you really bad."
"I had ears that stuck out, and I'm sure I was teased about it," Trocino, now 36, tells TODAY.com. "But it wasn't something that I remember being so impactful that I was begging my parents for it. I didn't even know that this was something you could do to your body."
He clicked on a video. A girl was sitting in an adult bed, a child's picture book beside her. Squire watched as a man came into the frame and began reading it to her. For a moment, it could have been a normal scene maybe it would be until the man proceeded to remove the girl's clothing. Then he raped her. Squire watched her endure it it looked like her soul left, he says.
Shortly after the orderlies wheeled Jim away to be intubated, an intensive-care doctor explained to me and Alice that our brother was suffering from acute respiratory failure. This man, whom we'd never seen before, casually added that Jim was unlikely to make it to morning. Then he continued on his rounds. The first thing we did, once he'd left, was pray.
Today I saw images of students leaving their school with their hands raised in the air, hours after cowering in fear and terror in barricaded classrooms. Nine dead and twenty-seven wounded in the tiny Rocky Mountain town of Tumbler Ridge. The mayor, Darryl Krakowka, said, "I have lived here for 18 years. I probably know every one of the victims." And this in Canada, which often seems to us Americans like a bastion of sanity and normalcy in comparison with our madness.
We try to understand and grow it, but many of us cannot. This is not because we are damaged or less than. It is because our body feels unsafe. This is especially true for self-kindness, which is one of the domains of self-compassion. Offering ourselves kindness when our internal systems feel stretched out, out of control, and unworthy is simply not a possibility for most of us at this stage.
The structure of the Emmy-winning HBO Max drama The Pitt, where every episode covers a single hour in the life of a busy Pittsburgh emergency department, might suggest it's about how much can happen in 12 or 15 hours. In Season 1, that meant deaths, a mass casualty event, a doctor caught stealing pills, a charge nurse being assaulted by a patient, and a fourth-year medical student who spends the whole day being splattered over and over with things that force him to change
As Valentine's Day approaches, we start enjoying images of ruby-red hearts, kisses, and holding hands-ideals of romantic love. But what happens the day or week after? For some, there are engagements and celebrations; for others, hurts, disappointments, breakups-some of those ruby-red hearts, broken or cracked. Lasting romance is built on a kind of love that requires more than sexy lingerie and roses; it needs trust, openness, and mutual acceptance.
When I took the assessment, shortly after leaving my partner, he scored an 8/10. If I had gone through with our pregnancy, he would have scored a 10. But we didn't have children because five years earlier, in a Chicago clinic, I'd had a medication abortion. At the time, the danger only registered as a faint sense of unease, nothing like the five-alarm fire my life would later become.
The famed installation, if you're unfamiliar, is a dishevelled unmade bed topped with stained sheets and surrounded by an array of empty vodka bottles, condoms, underwear and pills. Emin created it following a dark four-day period of binge-drinking and smoking following a bad break up, but its rawness upset a lot of critics and it sparked a fierce debate over what really constitutes a work of art.
Banned as it's been, everybody knows what The Bluest Eye is about: a little black girl who wishes she had blue eyes. That's not really a spoiler. Besides, Toni Morrison didn't care about spoilers. In fact, she gave away the whole plot of her very first novel in its opening narration: "Quiet as it's kept, there were no marigolds in the fall of 1941. We thought, at the time, that it was because Pecola was having her father's baby."
