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kwezli

@kwezli

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I’ve been posting and deleting things. It’s time for me to touch some grass by @kwezli

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2 months ago

🫧 forsure going to panic. by @kwezli

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3 months ago

I like the way you call bullshit. by @kwezli

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5 months ago

private matinee of ‘blue velvet’ by @kwezli

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5 months ago

kim jung gi yt videos was my first real art teacher. by @kwezli

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6 months ago

“The greatest location in the world is the human face.”
-Cassavetes 🎞️ by @kwezli

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a year ago

For YEARS, Hayao Miyazaki’s name carried weight, like Kubrick, Scorsese, or Fellini.I’d read the interviews, heard the praises, seen the stills—those impossibly delicate sketches of sky and spirit—and yet, somehow, I’d never sat through one of his films. (a quiet arrogance?)
Spirited Away made me feel small in the best way possible.The spirit world—so bizarre and beautiful—felt like a mirror to the film industry itself: full of wonder, greed, compassion.It was not the beauty that caught me first. Beauty is easy. It was the tenderness in the color, the deliberate care in every motion. The sky was not just blue—it sighed blue. The light did not simply fall—it reached. There was a patience to it.
I love this shit. Cinema should remind us that life has no borders, and that wonder requires no translation when it is delivered fluently.
(Thank you to all of my friends who have pressured, begged and pleaded for me to see this one. glad I got to finish it in a theater.) 🎭 🪁 Studio Ghibli Fest by @kwezli

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a year ago

by @kwezli

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a year ago

for assata, gone but never gone

you, fugitive flame,
taught me the art of being unyielding…
your pages broke me open—
as a thinker i learned revolt is a mirror,
as a writer i learned truth
is not polite, it is necessary.
you unbraided silence,
you held our rage steady…
and there is pac, your son of thunder,
your son who wore prophecy like a scar,
his verses like grenades tossed into the quiet,
forcing even the deaf to listen.
between you & him,
the syllables split open the sky—
we were never the same.today,
i mourn you like a continent
mourning stolen soil
assata, you live in the marrow
of every black child
who dreams beyond the noose,you live in the pulse
of every poem i write,
in the dangerous miracle of survival,
in the reminder
that liberation is not an idea,
it is a body—
& you gave yours,
so we could keep ours whole. by @kwezli

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a year ago

does anyone else feel like they need to call someone but don’t know who to call or is it just me and that dude from ‘catcher in the rye’? by @kwezli

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a year ago

taken in Queenstown, New Zealand by @kwezli

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a year ago

a woman alone will download pdfs. two women together will send links and articles. three or more women? that’s a library. by @kwezli

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a year ago