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Literature Text
Silence is not a quiet thing
Silence fills entire rooms
And takes control of people’s lives
Silences is a monster
Clamping down on its victims
Biting their tongues and pushing them down
Silence screams so loud you can’t hear it
It’s the gaping hole of something missing
So next time you hear even the faintest whisper of silence
Fix it
Silence fills entire rooms
And takes control of people’s lives
Silences is a monster
Clamping down on its victims
Biting their tongues and pushing them down
Silence screams so loud you can’t hear it
It’s the gaping hole of something missing
So next time you hear even the faintest whisper of silence
Fix it
Thalidomide AI Training
Thalidomide Syndrome is probably my favorite body style. This is a collection of what I consider my best creations
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Literature
Limbs Without Moviments
My name is Melissa, I am a suitor. He liked to pretend disabilities of various types, physical ones were the ones he liked the most: paraplegia, amputations, quadriplegia. I lived alone, at my grandmother's house, she died when I was 21, I was raised by her, my parents died when I was a child. I inherited everything from my family, my grandmother's house, my parents' assets. We were not rich, but we were in good shape and, with my work, I was able to maintain a good condition. I worked in graphic design, was a freelancer and offered my services over the internet, I never had contact with my clients, only by phone, so I spent most of my time at home, pretending to be disabled almost every day. I'm small, about 5.5 ', I was thin, I had long blond hair, green eyes, medium breasts. I had several devices: an electric chair controlled by spin n puff and also with chin control, a manual wheelchair, bandages, crutches. My favorite disability was quadruple amputation along with quadriplegia, I
Literature
No Moving 1
Hello people! My old profile was disabled, I created this one and will post the stories again. . . . . My name is Judith, I'm 18 years old and I'm an aspiring quadriplegic. I live in Berlin and since very young I liked to watch and watch videos of people with disabilities. I always imagined what it would be like to drive a sip n puff wheelchair. I would like to be a quadriplegic with a C3 level injury, being able to breathe alone and move only the head or below the shoulders. I live with my parents, they never suspected my aspiration. When I go to sleep, I pretend I can't move, I leave my body limp, limp, unable to move anything below the neck, pretending that I'm a high-level quadriplegic, the feeling is indescribable, I wanted to try this life for a few days. When I was 16, I was walking around the mall with my best friend, Flaviky, she is the only one who knows my secret, and I saw a man, looking 46 years old, he was sitting in a big, bulky wheelchair, with arms, with headrest
Literature
Care
I could care for you. Like, really and truly care for you. You might think that the operations of the small army of nurses and PCAs who are with you 24/7 constitute Care. I appreciate their work; it is good and necessary. But it is not Care. Care is an art. There's a craft to it. The changing of catheters, range of motion exercises and administration of drugs aren't keeping you alive. They're keeping you Not-dead. Not-dead is good, don't get me wrong. But there is more to living than the flow of food, blood, and waste. Of course, I would keep you not-dead. I like to think I would do better than the majority of loved ones who get roped into these sorts of situations. It wouldn't be a walk in the park. It'd be a lot to deal with, even coming as prepared as I am. All the diapers, health complications, and strangers handling your body. It's not glamorous. But I'd like to be there for everything. Good and bad. And yeah, there's a lot of bad. The lack of spontaneity, pressure sores, medical
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Silences is actually quite loud use you know how to hear it.
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Finally someone else agrees