[via]

[via juliasegal]

Ocho Cuervos [via yay!everyday]

All women who pass through one’s life are important. All.

At first they basically take care of you. Later some love you and others hate you. Sometimes they do both at the same time. Then there are the few ones that let you fuck them and the great majority that prefer to fuck you. But each and everyone teach you a thing or two about life.

So it’s foolish to try to decide which one taught you more. Your girls can’t be classified in order of importance. It is as useless as doing it alphabetically or by the size of their breasts. Ordering women is a great stupidity. Women are able to order themselves without any help.

The chronological is, without any doubt, the only order that makes sense. And that’s why I think my first girl was my grandmother. Or at least the oldest.

She saw me born in spite of being half blind.  She fed me and clothed me. She made me a rabbit costume, saved my eyes and gave me my first box of crayons. She is the only one able to cook like my grandmother does and the one who taught me that not being able move your hands is not an excuse to stop drawing.

When I try to find an image capable to calm me down I think of my childhood. And sometimes, I can’t remember if I was ever a child. I can’t remember at what point curiosity killed the rabbit.

It is only when I see her face that, suddenly, I also see the huts in the trees and the water pistols. The snacks and my bike with double seat to take the girls for a ride. Because, although those memories are mine, they travel with her.

I’m still not ready for my first girl to leave me. But when she does I know that child will go with her wherever she goes. To hell if necessary.

^©

(Thank you Ophelia! You’re a great hunter.)

(Thank you, Lyao_Chzhay. Spasibo! +)

(Thanks again Ophelia)

Robbits.
(thanks Qumnica, the best bunny pusher I’ve ever known)