I’ve not written anything meant to be posted to tumblr in some time. My musings were meant to be a substantial part of this account but I find myself entranced in the stories told through image. We live in a world where literacy is no longer solely textual, but visual as well. We are bombarded with thousands, if not hundreds of thousands (perhaps millions) of images on a daily basis, and how many can say they are cognizant of what it is we are being inundated with. Consumption is the anodyne to our cognitive dissonance as we move further away from one another, masking connections within a digital void. So is our state of being that we have become images ourselves—even reality as we know it is a facade experienced through a screen. Sterilized, shiny and new but I want an old that is not prefabricated, and old that is lived in. I created little pockets where I can find this amongst friends, powering all that pulls me away from right is right in front of me. You, in the flesh. Not an imagined you. Not an image of you that seeks to express a gratification that can never be attained but that is peddled via consumption. I want you. The real you scars, blemishes, stretch marks, a sweet aroma that is decidedly human (maybe floral, or fruity). I want you, not just what you show. I want humanity.