Famous , Iconic Photos.....

Colin

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The Salt March, which took place from March to April 1930 in India, was an act of civil disobedience led by Mohandas Gandhi (1869-1948) to protest British rule in India......

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alsughasoughaiuyfygh

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This is a famous still from a security footage tape near the end of the Columbine massacre of April 20, 1999. This event changed the way the United States looked at their school system as well as several other things in American culture.

It also represents what many angry outcasts want to do but don't have the gall to pull off.

Columbine_Shooting_Security_Camera.jpg
 
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Colin

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Shiloh Raven

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On February 8, 1887, the Dawes General Allotment Act was enacted. 130 years later, the US government is still trying to take tribal land and still trying to subjugate and silence Native Americans. Standing Rock and Oak Flat are two examples.

TheftofTribalLands.jpg
 
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Colin

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sassoon-1380b.jpg


Siegfried Sassoon , a British officer decorated for bravery in WW1 , who would turn to poetry to express his outrage at the slaughter in the killing fields of "The Great War" .

SUICIDE IN THE TRENCHES
I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
 
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JackRT

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sassoon-1380b.jpg


Siegfried Sassoon , a British officer decorated for bravery in WW1 , who would turn to poetry to express his outrage at the slaughter in the killing fields of "The Great War" .

SUICIDE IN THE TRENCHES
I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.

Powerful!

Christmas in the Trenches --- by John McCutcheon

My name is Francis Tolliver. I come from Liverpool.
So long ago the war was waiting for me after school.
To Belgium and to Flanders, to Germany to here
I fought for King and country I love dear.

'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung
The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung.
Our families back in England were toasting us that day,
Their brave and glorious lads so far away.

I was lying with my messmate on the cold and rocky ground
When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound.
Says I, "Now listen up, me boys!" Each soldier strained to hear
As one young German voice sang out so clear.

"He's singing bloody well, you know!" my partner says to me.
Soon, one by one, each German voice joined in harmony.
The cannons rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more
As Christmas brought us respite from the war.

As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent
"God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen," struck up some lads from Kent.
The next they sang was "Stille Nacht." "'Tis 'Silent Night,'" says I,
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky.

"There's someone coming towards us!" the front line sentry cried.
All sights were fixed on one lone figure trudging from their side.
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shone on that plain so bright
As he bravely strode unarmed into the night.

Soon one by one on either side walked into No Man's Land.
With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand.
We shared some secret brandy and wished each other well
And in a flare lit soccer game we gave 'em hell.

We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home,
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own.
Young Sanders played his squeezebox, and they had a violin,
This curious and unlikely band of men.

Soon daylight stole upon us, and France was France once more.
With sad farewells we each prepared to settle back to war,
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wondrous night
"Whose family have I fixed within my sights?"

'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung.
The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung.
For the walls they'd kept between us to exact the work of war
Had been crumbled and were gone forevermore.

My name is Francis Tolliver. in Liverpool I dwell.
Each Christmas come since World War I, I've learned its lessons well:
That the ones who call the shots won't be among the dead and lame,
And on each end of the rifle we're the same.
 
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Colin

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A family seated (and sleeping) around a table covered with a woven striped 'jajim'.

Under the table is a charcoal brazier providing warmth as children are seen sleeping with only their heads emerging from under the cover.

This set up, in Afghanistan, is called a 'sandali', referring to the covered table with a heat source underneath.
p8.jpg
 
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Consider making a one-time or monthly donation. We appreciate your support!
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