The only way to for the public to see complete Epstein files is to leak it. Do it. Now. Anything else is complicit.

Wow Inspiring writes4Goal So our next thing now is to explore the reality of what can be achieved - where R we now? R is for reality It’s no good planning an exercise plan-based on gym membership if I can’t really afford 2 join a gym! The #vss365 #prompt for 18Nov is #Reality

#FBaRmy #Gverse #Unite Together! Fight Fascism Together!✨️ @sassysister27.bsky.social @sadworld.bsky.social @resist4harris.bsky.social @gmf1369.bsky.social @6cats4adomino.bsky.social @nancyskartveit.bsky.social @57kev.bsky.social @robertcharleslaird.bsky.social @browneyegirlhi.bsky.social @bealer.net

@kingresist.bsky.social Always excellent to see you, King! You are an unforgettable and truly appreciated inspiration and resister. You have contributed greatly and consistently to the success of all resister efforts here!! Be well and take care!!! Having a look at your store right now.

Pam Bondi will not have a license to practice law when this is all over. You can’t stay a bar member and agree to investigate only members of one political party for child sexual abuse but not members of the other. And, you can’t do it after previously saying no one else could be charged.

Hello Blue Sky! I'd like to share: First, thank you to my new followers. I'm following all, & I'll include you soon, if I haven't yet. For days at a time, I receive no new followers & here I am today, with nearly a hundred or more. I'm honored to meet you! Does this happen to you? Odd or normal?

August turns September, her days as leaves, age beyond linger, knowingly, her heart, a gull on wing, her song, we long remember farewell in wind to leaves set free, like my heart, or waves.

He’s desperate for this to go away. Don’t let it..

I remember you, crimson shoreline, September, I imagine you, as forever you will be. Imagine me, an autumn wind, returning waves.

I'll give the missing music, color, stars, my soul in brushstrokes, to complete your unfinished portrait, asleep in my heart

my jacaranda canopy, a fairway to memory and melody with endless limbs to climb and August mornings forever atop a purpled sidewalk paved with sunshine, shadows, and laughter, our wee yellow house, its corner windows peeking, at robins and roses and scented lavender clouds, young songs in the sky

upon this most royal lily pad, one paisley fellow reclines in song, watching tangerine ripplets, those practiced secrets among silent swimmers, as they press such pearly lips, to dreams on the moon; regal and pure his melody, fit for Heaven, rising through his crown of stars.

My midnight sojourn, Avast, her moon's a-callin' Aye, fairwinds to thee.

This gross incompetent was on the Bingo Card. Along with a couple of others. Who's next in line? Bondi, Rubio? Lutnick, Kennedy? Hell, they're all bumbling half-wit jackasses.

sometimes a moment is golden when one inner joy, unique, fleeting, stretches its limbs from slumbering depths to singular knowledge, standing new, awakened, fresh in its own truth, its heartbeat, one simple recognition, alone, unlocked alive

empty echo, butterfly wings, hands open free, in the wind you're gone, and I breathe so deep, reach only as far, as empty recalls.

A Re Run

echoes, these echoes, February solitude, my gray frigid heart.

In her golden years, Bossie was all about the surf... The turf? Not so much. Her mantra: Cowabunga!!

We're hitting the dusty trail again... Lu Lu and her dad...

Happy yogi debriefing after class.

LuLu C Laird...offers home decorating tips...will work for Milk Bones.

29 yo to 69 yo.... who knew?

Mask up, y'all!!

Yup... LuLu C Laird waking her dad up for the gym and yoga!! Namaste!🧘‍♂️🙏🏋️‍♂️

twin melodies drift, one atop, one below this liquid midnight symphony; two moons, one rising, one rippling in harmony, through languid, listening stars.

A Re Run

twin melodies drift, one atop, one below this liquid midnight symphony; two moons, one rising, one rippling in harmony, through languid, listening stars.

just once, on wind, or whim. a leaf sails softly, downward dancing in one sacred moment, of newfound freedom, departing in singular bliss, just once.

a smooth slide through this city, midnight cocktails, winding stale smoke, density balancing frailty on solemn, brassy truth; and I hear for a while, such craving stars pulling notes from nightscapes unyielding, kneading anew, their timeless dreams, and cool midnight swagger,

29 yo to 69 yo.... who knew?

Yup... LuLu C Laird waking her dad up for the gym and yoga!! Namaste!🧘‍♂️🙏🏋️‍♂️

Mask up, y'all!!

In her golden years, Bossie was all about the surf... The turf? Not so much. Her mantra: Cowabunga!!

empty echo, butterfly wings, hands open free, in the wind you're gone, and I breathe so deep, reach only as far, as empty recalls.

I'll give the missing music, color, stars, my soul in brushstrokes, to complete your unfinished portrait, asleep in my heart

upon this most royal lily pad, one paisley fellow reclines in song, watching tangerine ripplets, those practiced secrets among silent swimmers, as they press such pearly lips, to dreams on the moon; regal and pure his melody, fit for Heaven, rising through his crown of stars.

August turns September, her days as leaves, age beyond linger, knowingly, her heart, a gull on wing, her song, we long remember farewell in wind to leaves set free, like my heart, or waves.