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alightinthelantern · 5 months

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Movies on Youtube:

Brief Encounter (1945, David Lean)

Opening Night (1977, John Cassavetes)

Close Up (1990, Abbas Kiarostami)

Taste of Cherry (1997, Abbas Kiarostami)

The Song of Sparrows (2008, Majid Majidi)

Russian Ark (2002, Alexander Sokurov)

Dreams (1990, Akira Kurosawa)

Dersu Uzala (1975, Akira Kurosawa)

The Idiot (1951, Akira Kurosawa)

Drunken Angel (1948, Akira Kurosawa)

Tokyo Story (1953, Yasujirō Ozu)

Early Summer (1951, Yasujirō Ozu)

Late Spring (1949, Yasujirō Ozu)

The Flavor of Green Tea over Rice (1952, Yasujirō Ozu)

Good Morning (1959, Yasujirō Ozu)

An Autumn Afternoon (1962, Yasujirō Ozu)

Sword for Hire (1952, Inagaki Hiroshi)

Rebecca (1940, Alfred Hitchcock)

Thunderbolt (1929, Josef von Sternberg)

Larceny (1948, George Sherman)

Among the Living (1941, Stuart Heisler)

Andrei Rublev (1966, Andrei Tarkovsky)

Mirror (1975, Andrei Tarkovsky)

Solaris (1972, Andrei Tarkovsky)

Ivan’s Childhood (1962, Andrei Tarkovsky)

Aguirre, the Wrath of God (1972, Werner Herzog)

Fitzcarraldo (1982, Werner Herzog)

Medea (1969, Pier Paolo Pasolini)

Medea (filmed stageplay)

Is It Easy To Be Young? (1986, Juris Podnieks)

We'll Live Till Monday (1968, Stanislav Rostotsky)

Ordinary Fascism (aka Triumph Over Violence) (1965, Mikhail Romm)

Battleship Potemkin (1925, Sergei Eisenstein)

The Third Man (1949, Carol Reed)

Johnny Come Lately (1943, William K. Howard)

Mister 880 (1950, Edmund Goulding)

Beethoven’s Eroica (2003, Simon Cellan Jones)

Katyn (2007, Andrzej Wajda)

Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events (2004, Brad Silberling)

Mean Girls (2004, Mark Waters)

The Neverending Story (1984, Wolfgang Petersen)

The NeverEnding Story II: The Next Chapter (1990, George T. Miller)

The Thief and the Cobbler (Richard Williams)

Osmosis Jones (2001, myriad directors)

Megamind (2010, Tom McGrath)

Ghost in the Shell (1995, Mamoru Oshii)

Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence (2004, Mamoru Oshii)

Steamboy (2004, Katsuhiro Otomo)

Badlands (1973), Terrence Malick

Wargames (1983, John Badham)

By the White Sea (2022, Aleksandr Zachinyayev)

White Moss (2014, Vladimir Tumayev)

The Theme (1979, Gleb Panfilov)

The Duchess (2008, Saul Dibb)

Bed and Sofa (1927, Abram Room)

Fate of a Man (1959, Sergei Bondarchuk)

Ballad of a Soldier (1959, Grigory Chukhray)

Uncle Vanya (1970, Andrey Konchalovskiy)

An Unfinished Piece for Mechanical Piano (1977, Nikita Mikhalkov)

Family Relations (1981, Nikita Mikhalkov)

The Seagull (1970, Yuli Karasik)

My Tender and Affectionate Beast (1978, Emil Loteanu)

Dreams (1993, Karen Shakhnazarov & Alexander Borodyansky)

The Vanished Empire (2008, Karen Shakhnazarov)

Winter Evening in Gagra (1985, Karen Shakhnazarov)

Day of the Full Moon (1998, Karen Shakhnazarov)

Zero Town (1989, Karen Shakhnazarov)

The Girls (1961, Boris Bednyj)

The Diamond Arm (1969, Leonid Gaidai)

Operation Y and Shurik's Other Adventures (1965, Leonid Gaidai)

Ivan Vasilievich Changes Profession (1973, Leonid Gaidai)

Unbelievable Adventures of Italians in Russia (1974, Eldar Ryazanov & Franco Prosperi)

Office Romance (1977, Eldar Ryazanov)

Carnival Night (1956, Eldar Ryazanov)

Hussar Ballad (1962, Eldar Ryazanov)

Kin-dza-dza! (1986, Georgiy Daneliya)

The Most Charming and Attractive (1985, Gerald Bezhanov)

Autumn (1974, Andrei Smirnov)

War and Peace: Part 1 (1966, Sergei Bondarchuk)

War and Peace: Part 2 (1966, Sergei Bondarchuk)

War and Peace: Part 3 (1967, Sergei Bondarchuk)

War and Peace: Part 4 (1967, Sergei Bondarchuk)

The Red Tent (first half) (1969, Mikhail Kalatozov)

The Red Tent (second half) (1969, Mikhail Kalatozov)

Sherlock Holmes: The Hound of the Baskervilles (1939, Sidney Lanfield)

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1939, Alfred L. Werker)

Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror (1942, John Rawlins)

Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon (1943, Roy William Neill)

Sherlock Holmes in Washington (1943, Roy William Neill)

Sherlock Holmes Faces Death (1943, Roy William Neill)

Sherlock Holmes: The Spider Woman (1944, Roy William Neill)

Sherlock Holmes: The Scarlet Claw (1944, Roy William Neill)

Sherlock Holmes: The Pearl of Death (1944, Roy William Neill)

Sherlock Holmes: The House of Fear (1945, Roy William Neill)

Sherlock Holmes: The Woman in Green (1945, Roy William Neill)

Sherlock Holmes: Pursuit to Algiers (1945, Roy William Neill)

Sherlock Holmes: Terror by Night (1946, Roy William Neill)

Sherlock Holmes: Dressed to Kill (1946, Roy William Neill)

If any of the links don’t work, try looking up the film in this playlist: link

#movies #films #cinema #film #movies on youtube #films on youtube #youtube #movie recs #film recs

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 7 months

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Also, question! Does original text support that JC raised JL? Or is it just because he has the clarity bell that makes people think JC gave birth and breastfeed him?

Hello there anon, it is said that he was raised "by two families".

Jin Ling had been raised by two families, staying at the tower of Jinlintai of the Jin Clan of Lanling half the time and at the Lotus Pier of the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng the other half. Thus, he should have things from both families on him.

(And a big thank you to @rynne and @ladypfenix for pointing me to the chapter this is in!)

But I say this with stipulation, that this does not mean the adults of sect leader standing were heavily involved in the everyday rearing and care of him. Such as what we are shown first with Madam Yu and how it's stated she was rarely there within the sect seat of Yunmeng, and, how Qinghen-Jun also did not have a hand at all with raising his sons which was left to Lan Qiren instead. Similarly, I imagine it was Jin Guangyao who was the one heavily involved with personally taking the time to visit with Jin Ling as the designated "parental" role due to social etiquette.

It is also the expectation for children of families to be raised within the patriarchal line. They are of their fathers heirs. It would naturally default to Jin Guangyao, in all expectation, to be Jin Ling's official guardian and next of kin to raise him more as a Jin. He wears the robes of Lanling and is the next sect heir of Jin Guangyao he is more Jin in social standing and society expectation than of Jiang. Jin Ling himself is also very invested in his family name as Jin Zixuan's son more than that of anything of Yunmeng Jiang. He tells "Mo Xuanyu" to not make a mess of the name of Jin.

Even as he questions why Wei Wuxian knows so many of the Lan principles, he stops himself given that earlier in that scene, Wei Wuxian has declared his intentions of being a part of Lan Wangji's family name as the wife. The wife of course, is supposed to turn to the family rules of the husband in Chinese marriages and become one of that family, the ties of the "milk name family" are secondary and a bit more to the foreground.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #jin ling #socially and by family standard is jin ling is always more of a Jin then holding any claim to Jiang

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serenaisavillain · 26 days

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Sword and Silk

Summary: Within the ancient walls of the Red Keep, the Princess is ensnared by the looming presence of Ser Harwin "Breakbones" Strong, his silent vigilance concealing darker depths. Amidst his whispers of protection, a hidden yearning simmers beneath the surface, entwined with the secrets that swarm within the castle's corridors.

Warnings: Themes of violence, including depictions of physical altercations, character death, grief, complex power dynamics, manipulation and coercion.

Author's Note: Your feedback is valuable to me as an author. Whether it's your thoughts on the characters, the plot twists, or even just your emotional response to the story, I genuinely want to hear from you. Stay tuned for the second part!

Word Count: 2.4k

HE WAS HER SHADOW. Strolling heavy-footed behind her at every moment. The princess's every move was scrutinised under his unwavering gaze. King Viserys had long lectured his only daughter in the belly of his sleeping chamber. The presence of her Kingsguard was for her own protection. Ser Harwin "Breakbones" Strong was true to his namesake. The thought that harm might come to her under his shield was amusing.

Still, she felt so diminutive; every footstep, his looming presence followed. He towered over her like the godswood tree under which her lessons commenced. His wide back and mighty arms did not settle the swarm of wasps that buzzed within her belly. It rattled their nest.

She was left to her own devices during the day within the heart of the sept. The seven walls of the dusty stone room seldom held the inhabitants of the castle. Their focus remained fixed on indulging their whims, she always thought. After her delicate finger lit a candle at the altar, she bent both knees before the marble statue of The Father. A precipitation of teardrops rolled down the apples of her cheeks. There she begged, hands clasped for the soul of her dear mother.

She would emerge when the sun hung low in the sky and the shadows grew long. Her dampened features never failed to draw Ser Harwin's attention. His thick eyebrows drew themselves together over his deep sable eyes.

"Are you alright, Princess?" He would always whisper.

These were the only times her lilac eyes would dare flicker to his, resembling the red of her house banner.

"Yes, Ser Harwin." She would croak before averting her eyes to the grey stone path beneath her feet.

ON A DAY OF GENTLE BREEZE, tranquil waters and clear skies, her cousin, Lady Laena Velaryon's ship, docked at the harbour of Blackwater Bay.

Ser Harwin's eyes softened as a genuine smile graced the Princess's lips for once. A fleeting moment of brightness amidst the shadows that surrounded her.

"Cousin!" She cried.

She nearly tripped over the train of her black gown, running towards her kin, arms outstretched.

When the gap between them was sealed, an entanglement of limbs ensued, their silver hair dancing wildly in the wind.

"How is my dearest Y/N?" The older girl asked, panting.

The Princess nodded as they began to walk down the pier.

Stark-white seagulls flew above them alongside the dark scales of Vhagar.

The large dragon casting a quick shadow.

The crew unloading the cargo of the ship gasped in awe of the great beast.

"The days no longer seem long… as I have written in my letters. They now somehow manage to bleed together. I often confuse many moons ago for yesterday…" She sighed.

Lady Laena clutched the Princess's cold hands within her own.

"You shall grieve no longer, sweet Y/N. We shall fête every day until I depart!" She laughed, tugging her into a hug that nearly suffocated the younger girl.

Ser Harwin smiled unbeknownst to the two, his heavy boots following behind as always.

Y/N hurriedly walked through the corridor of the Red Keep, the sound of her low-heeled shoes barely audible against the polished marble floor.

She came to a halt at a heavy Valyrian steel door, gesturing to it with delicate fingers.

"The finest room in the castle, for my truest confidant." She giggled.

The knight had not heard the Princess laugh in that manner since her last name day when the Queen was still alive.

KING VISERYS HAD declared that there be three days of celebration for his daughter.

On the first night, a lavish feast commenced. Every elegantly clad guest gorged themselves on the most sumptuous of delicacies. From roasted boar to buttered rolls to indulgent cakes adorned with fruit and thick frosting.

Amidst his peers, the man with dark curls hungered for something else - or rather, someone.

Princess Y/N sat tall upon a skillfully carved chair among the rest of her family, her dainty wrist adorned with a pewter bracelet encrusted with rubies. It grazed against the velvet tablecloth as she spoke. She and her cousin Lady Laena brushed shoulders, occasionally whispering and giggling as they indulged heavily in Dornish wine.

The crimson colour gown she donned made her bronze skin more radiant, competing with the shimmer of its silk fabric. The garment's onyx corset adorned with an embroidered dragon and delicate lace details sinched her waist. The dress hugged every curve of her body with a luxurious embrace. The neckline embellished with matching black lace plunged daringly low, accentuating the swell of her bust.

No fault of the Princess, he imagined; she certainly could not be aware of how appetisingly she had blossomed over the past year - he certainly had not until now.

"Brother, you are drooling," his brother Larys jested.

Ser Harwin averted his gaze instantaneously.

The knight, in his finest attire, futilely attempted to focus on the roasted duck drowned in gravy that sat on his plate. He could not resist the décolletage of the heiress, his eyes carefully peering at the curly-haired beauty.

On the second day, when the sun hung directly overhead, the King commanded a tournament be held. Lords and Ladies of Westeros and the lesser kingdoms filled the seats of the great coliseum, heavy bags of coin in their grasp with the intention of placing bets on the bravest knights.

Despite the tremor of his hands, Lord Strong encouraged his son to be among those in the festivities.

As the knights prepared for the final joust, Ser Harwin Strong approached the royal pavilion where the princess sat. His skin was slick with sweat that he hoped she assumed was a byproduct of the Westerosi summer. His armour was clangorous with the steady trot of his steed. His eyes were fixed on her visage as he steadied his mount.

"Princess," he began, bowing his head before her, "I ask that you bestow me the honor of wearing your favor."

The Princess slowly rose from her cushioned seat and approached the railing, the wreath of blood-red roses in her delicate grasp.

A shy smile graced her painted lips.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. "May it bring you luck, Ser Harwin."

The man contained the swell of pride that erupted in his broad chest as the wreath now adorned his wooden lance.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he said, "I shall carry it with pride."

Ser Harwin's armour gleamed in the sunlight as he returned to his position.

Silence settled over the coliseum.

With a thunderous roar, the signal was given, and the two knights spurred their steeds into action. Dust danced in the air as the hooves of horses thundered down the lists, lances steadied and gazes marked on thine own target.

The lances crashed against each other. Only black-haired knight's held true, colliding with the armour of his opponent with brutal force. He, however, remained steady on the leather of his saddle.

with brutal force. He however, remained steady upon the leather of his saddle.

The nobles erupted into cheers as Ser Harwin's opponent was unseated, descending to the dust with a deafening clangour. The victorious knight waved briefly to the crowd before his horse gave out below him.

The gasps and screams of the court reverberated through the arena.

The shrieks of steel on steel rang across the jousting field as the two knights clashed. Ser Harwin was a man possessed, his blows raining down upon his opponent with relentless force. At one point, he tossed aside his sword, pummeling his opponent with simply his hands, both fists pounding against his chest.

As the dust settled and the screams of the crowd fell dead, Ser Harwin stood with his head hung, his gauntlets bloody, and his breath in ragged gasps. There was no longer pride in his eyes; only a grim visage remained, finding no solace in knowing he had defended his honour and upheld the code to which he had sworn his life.

He gazed upon the Princess's face; her violet eyes widened, and her mouth agape.

On the last night, fireworks exploded in the midnight sky above the ships of Blackwater Bay, the most noble of houses making drunken toasts to the Princess Y/N.

A table of gifts, wrapped in the most ornate of papers and fabrics and tied in the most elaborate and fantastical of bows, piled as high as the mountains in the North. It only grew as the evening went on, each courtier attempting to outdo the next.

A bard strummed his mandolin and cried out a song naming her the Princess, the realm's delight.

But the princess sat at her table, feigning looks of surprise and joy as one pompous figure after another greeted her.

THE LADY LAENA smiled.

"Oh, how you honour me, Y/N," she began, "Won't you join me for some wine and gossip?" She jested.

The Princess nodded, escaping with her kin under the threshold arm in arm.

The young knight stood back turned towards the door, not meaning to but overhearing their girlish chatter.

Y/N sat at the foot of Laena's bed, watching as she undressed.

The soft winds rustled the silken curtains, filling the room with a slight chill.

"How long has it been since we have laid eyes upon each other dear cousin?" Y/N said, sipping from her silver chalice.

Laena sighed as she plopped on the tall mattress. Her hair spread across the cool satin sheets.

"Way too long, I fear." She pouted.

Y/N gulped the last bit of her wine, wiping the side of her mouth with the tips of her pointer and index fingers.

Her cousin chuckled.

"What?! What provokes you to such laughter?" Y/N flopped back so she could lay beside her.

"You, drunkard." She giggled.

"I'll have you know I have not indulged in quite sometime," the Princess shrugged, reaching for the pitcher.

"By all means indulge… Your Grace," she jested.

Y/N shoved the older girl's shoulder.

"Do you remember all the mischief we got up to?" She sat up reaching for her own chalice.

"How could one forget."

"Little dragons should be seen and not heard!" they both exclaimed at the same time.

Another fit of laughter ensued.

"Good riddance to Otto! That old geezer!" Y/N began before her soft palms covered her mouth.

Laena rolled around the bed, clutching her nightgown-covered stomach.

"You have never told a lie! I do not regret ever eavesdropping on his conversations." She stated plainly.

"Gods! Remeber when we heard him trying to seduce that young kitchen hand?! What was her name-" The princess began once more.

"Maeve! The poor girl!" Her cousin answered.

The two fell weak, with stomachs aching from laughter.

The hour grew late, and the pair grew bacchanalian.

Their chalices once filled with the finest of Dornish wine had run dry.

"…Any interesting converstions… or encounters at court...?" Laena asked. Her head now hung off the bed.

Y/N pouted her lips.

"No lords interest me…" Y/N retorted, reflecting on the disappointing suitors she had encountered. From brutish Baratheons to loquacious Lannisters.

Laena hummed.

"He does not have to be a lord…" she sang.

The princess sat up.

"It is almost as if you are referring to someone in particular dear cousin…" She arched her brow.

The Velaryon girl shrugged.

"Have you perhaps noticed the fleeting glances of your Kingsgaurd…?" The girl flipped over onto her belly.

She laughed nearly falling from the bed.

"Ser Harwin? I assure you I have no interest in a man like him. He probably frequents the brothel in Mole's Town, has fathered a thousand bastards and…"

"Uh huh… So you are smitten with him…" She deduced.

Y/N heaved a boudoir pillow at her cousin's head.

"I have no time to be consumed by matters of the heart… besides how can one forget the brutality of my name day…"

Laena's eyes softened.

Y/N cleared her throat.

"The hour has grown late dear cousin. I fear I must retire…" Y/N explained before swaying to her feet.

The older girl nodded.

She rose off the bed, bidding her kin goodnight with a kiss on the cheek.

The girl tugged feebly at the door before managing to pry it ajar.

She had forgotten her sworn protector resided outside until his dark ringlets appeared in the candlelit corridor.

"Princess." He greeted hoarsely.

"Ser Harwin. My apologies…" She slurred before clumsily shuffling past him.

The knight stifled the laugh that bubbled in his belly at the sight before him. In fact, he quite enjoyed it when the Princess murmured more than two words to him.

"No need to apologise Your Grace. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?" he said looking down at her state.

The top buttons of her chemise were unbuttoned; he had not the slightest clue where her shoes had gone and her curls were more unruly than usual.

Frankly she looked as though she'd been bedded.

"Yes… to my chambers," she sighed.

THE WALK WAS SLOW, but Ser Harwin did not mind. He found the sight quite adorable.

Princess Y/N hummed along as she used the passing walls to stabilize her.

When they reached the door, the knight pushed it open, standing straight outside the threshold.

The princess mumbled a quiet thanks before entering her large chamber.

A few moments after she had shut the door behind her, he heard what he thought was his name being uttered from her lips.

"Princess?" her turned to the door, his hand frozen at the handle.

"Are you decent?" He called.

"Yes!" she answered rather quietly.

The man swallowed hard.

The room was exceptionally warm from the fireplace that burned brightly in the corner, casting the shadows of flickering flames over the princess's face.

He shut the door behind him.

"I cannot manage the strings of my corset…" She pouted.

The man's skin warmed.

He supposed that since it was now the hour of the wolf, it would be most unkind to awaken Her Grace's handmaiden to do such a simple task.

The knight removed his gauntlets laying them gently on the table beside him.

He cautiously approached the heiress. Her back turned towards him.

She tossed her pearlescent hair over her shoulder so it rested on her collar bone.

His nimble fingers unravelling the strings of the corset one by one.

The man tried to ignore the way his rough fingers grazed the softness of her skin every now and again.

The princess sighed deeply.

"Thank you, Ser Harwin."

The man grunted in response, afraid that his tongue might betray him.

The silver-haired beauty stalked towards him, eyes fixed; he had not realized that he was marching backwards until his head hit the wall with a thud.

"Ser Harwin…" She said. Her glossy lilac eyes peering up at him through her long eyelashes.

"Princess…" He whispered. Swallowing thickly.

She tilted her head to the side.

His eyes immediately fell to her exposed neck.

"Do you desire me?"

#a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #house of the dragon #ser harwin strong #harwin strong #ser harwin strong x black!reader #ser harwin strong x poc!reader #angst #fluff #laena velaryon #laena velaryon x reader #poc fanfiction #fanfiction

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deaths · 3 months

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when i was 19 and pokemon sword and shield just came out i had a friend really into it with me and i was like "damn i wish there was a character id kin here so i can ship with piers" and he went "? why not self ship" and it blew my mind because i didnt know people still did that. changed my life.

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zeraphiimm · 5 months

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i have chest pains whenever i remember ***** ***** kins piers i just cant handle it i start shaking with anger

#i cantsay his name #iykyk #textatron

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kincalling · 10 months

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Heya, Im a fictive of piers from pokemon sword and shield. Looking for other fictives from the source, particularly raihan and leon (/p or /r).

Bodily 17, so no one bodily older than 19/20 pls !!

add me on discord: barlupin

or like the post and we can get talking :p

🎧

#piers kin #pokemon sword and shield kin #pokemon swsh kin #canon calls

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fatehbaz · 1 year

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The New York State Urban Development Corporation saw in the piers a sacrificial milieu of impurity and devaluation. Rivera described the event as follows: “It’s called a sweep. Not even a fucking eviction. A sweep, like we’re trash.” [...]

The clearance operation of the piers took place under the New York Slum Clearance Commission and Law and its frothy utopian verbiage of “sanitizing” an environment [...] unsuitable for human life. [...] The demolition of the piers showed the violent clash of two confronting forms of urbanism. [...] [Manhattan’s] working class industrial base was transformed into a corporate and service-based economy and New York State Governor Nelson A. Rockefeller, together with city planners, implemented policies to frame Manhattan as a place for work, but not living. [...] At the same time, these discussions were imbricated with racial depictions and xenophobic targets: most of the constructions beleaguered in this operation were inhabited or used by black people, Latin Americans, migrants, and displaced communities. [...]

---

The piers thrived with life. [...]

The notion of the piers as insalubrious areas that needed to be wiped out gained traction in the 1980s -- during the peak of the HIV/AIDS crisis [...]. This narrative concerning the piers was active in New York City until the early 2000s, until Mayor Michael Bloomberg and Governor George Pataki opened the Greenwich Village segment of Hudson River Park on May 30, 2003. The highway was finally demolished [...] and a series of gates were erected to keep Pier 45 closed after 1am [...]. The previous residents of these spaces were just routine casualties.

The new proposal opted for a unitary, straightforward, apparently open but constantly surveilled set of facilities, where constant circulation (by car, skate, bike, foot) was central, and framed the conception of the piers as a passing point. This contrasted the labyrinthic and fragmented former setting, with multitudes of hidden spaces that provided a sense of privacy and safety [...].

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Members of these groups were ostracized and deprived of typical considerations during the outbreak of an epidemic: protocols of announcement, transparency in information, research, and measure-taking. Meanwhile, the communities that congregated around the piers, and the piers themselves, helped spread information about AIDS, made transparent the available data, and offered care among affected communities. [...]

This environmental activism, where kin was formed [...], happened in places like the piers. [...] They were an escape from the constant scrutiny of authorities and from homophobic attacks [...].

---

GRID (Gay Related Immune Deficiency), as well as the common “gay plague” and “gay cancer” epithets, strengthened the idea of a specifically gay disease related to a certain environment-specific villain. Journalists, following the views of public health authorities, blamed the epidemic on [...] the places gay people frequented. [...] Physicians thus described a spatial configuration located in downtown Manhattan [...] which [...] posed a threat [...]. This claim had terrible consequences for the activist spaces and urban fabrics that confronted the epidemic [...]. The remnants of Pier 45 were demolished. The activist history of these places was “cleared.” [...]

---

When Sylvia Rivera shouted to the authorities “stay away from my house!” while being evicted, “house” not only referred to the physical construction of her home. She was confronting teleological progress with the project of a[n] [...] assemblage based on [...] mutual caring [...] and defying colonial narratives of race, sex, gender, and nature. The territorialization of epidemics, identities, and citizenship not only shape the built environment, but the built environment shapes them in return. Architecture thereby assumed the form of an expanded spatial practice [...].

When Rivera was trying to save her home from demolition, she said, “there’s so many fucking buildings in this fucking Manhattan.”

What New York City was losing with the demolition of Pier 45 was not just a series of dwellings. It was losing a complex ecosystem of coexistence.

---

All text above by: Iván López Munuera. “Lands of Contagion”, e-flux (Sick Architecture series). November 2020. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

#abolition #health #medical #colonial #imperial #ecology #landscape

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