Students who still have a lot ahead of them. Students like me, who still have dreams, goals, and students who still aim for achievements. But because of this tragedy, it all faded away.
I bow and salute to the brave students who saved the lives of others and sacrificed themselves. They are heroes. They are people who deserves a lot better than awards. They deserve to be in Heaven, a place full of happiness and there will be no more sufferings. I also pray for the lives of the family and the people involved in this accident and specially the souls of these heroes.
I hope that the students who were saved by these mighty students will live their lives to the fullest, achieve their dreams and goals and love their family more. I also wish that they will live being inspired by the heroes who saved their lives. Please do so.
And for the captain, my middle finger salutes you. Live well. In guilt. Thank you.
A Song of Ice and Fire women & Pre-Raphaelite Art (+ associated artists):
- Joan of Arc (1865), John Everett Millais - Night (1880-85), Edward Robert Hughes - Ophelia (1894), John William Waterhouse - Vanity (1907), Frank Cadogan Cowper - Mary Magdalene (1858-60), Frederick Sandys - The Soul of the Rose (1908), John William Waterhouse - Circe Offering the Cup to Ulysses (1891), John William Waterhouse - Priestess of Delphi (1891), John Collier - The Beloved (1865), Dante Gabriel Rossetti - The Valykrie’s Vigil (1906), Edward Robert Hughes
The role of the witch in fairy tales is often as an antagonist, a being that represents behaviour/feeling that is outside of our own social/moral bounds. She [for witches in these tales are mostly always female] are predominately describes as unattractive, sometimes barely human and as old crones. Many tales have witches disguise themselves as beautiful queens and ladies but, ultimately, they are always defeated by the far more beautiful and good maiden.
“The day my father came to claim me, my mother did not wish for me to go. ‘She is a girl,’ she said, ‘and I do not think that she is yours. I had a thousand other men.’ He tossed his spear at my feet and gave my mother the back of his hand across the face, so she began to weep. ‘Girl or boy, we fight our battles,’ he said, ‘but the gods let us choose our weapons.’ He pointed to the spear, then to my mother’s tears, and I picked up the spear. ‘I told you she was m i n e,’ my father said, and took me.”