Foreign adult web cam
I checked the trending hashtag, and immediately saw the screen grabs from what seemed like this man’s dying moments.
The usual “another one” monologue bellowed out in my soul.
On the morning of July 6, 2016 I started my day with the usual app routine: Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr until the snooze button interrupts my banal flow one too many times — I forget what it’s like to be alone with your thoughts at 9 a.m.
On Twitter I noticed my timeline was littered with endless commentary about some guy named Alton Sterling.
Perhaps the only shred of symbolic truth behind the “great” America Donald Trump frequently alludes to is the blood red of his now iconic baseball cap. The psychological effects of witnessing black bodies being brutalized hasn’t helped put an end to this plague against a community, or even cultivate empathy within those in power.
What is it about witnessing death that is so alluring to so many?
A hoodie, a bag of skittles and a can of Arizona sweet tea was all he had on him.
I made trips to my neighborhood corner store with the same snack list.
I’ve never craved the sight of my old high school classmates’ ramblings quite as badly as that Wednesday, but my feed had another idea. his shirt was red, but there was definitely blood trickling from his fresh chest wounds to the concrete.
The auto-play of Sterling’s death didn’t miss a beat; it was as though the 46-second clip was for my eyes only. Two cops tackled him, he was on the ground, what else did they want from him?