There’s something really terrifying about the concept of being pursued by something that can only walk slowly after. Just slooowly following. You can chill for a while if you get far enough away but it’s still coming.
That’s called “persistence hunting” and it’s how humans hunted all sorts of megafauna to extinction, as well as what let our species become so disperse and so numerous. Our existence is a horror story told from the monster’s perspective.
Your Victoria’s Secret clothing and lingerie are sewn by (often child) slaves who work 80-100 hours a week in developing countries.
Do better, buy local and ethical.Sources for everyone who will love to ignore this:
https://www.globallabourrights.org/reports/victorias-secret-abuses-foreign-guest-workers-in-jordanhttp://library.cqpress.com/cqresearcher/document.php?id=cqresrre1996081600
http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/74261
http://hereandnow.legacy.wbur.org/2011/12/15/victorias-secret-fair
The alternative is buying from ethical local designers and lingerie makers. I mean fuck, I would rather never wear lingerie again a day in my life if wearing lingerie means supporting slave labor…
remember the night we fell in love? The stars were brighter than I’d ever seen them, a million diamonds in the purple night sky. We were laying on the roof of your car, and while I was pointing at a shooting star, you were leaning over to kiss me. We rolled off your roof laughing as we fell, and my heart tumbled much further than either of our bodies. But that’s not how it happened at all is it? Memory has a strange, and beautiful way of changing how things happened. The stars were just stars, and my bruises from the fall hurt for weeks. And you left.
