music makrr

Moon Magic: Exploring the Mystical Properties of Moonstone Moon Magic has long captured the fascination and intrigue of humans throughout history. One gemstone associated with lunar energy is the moonstone. With its ethereal glow and captivating beauty, this gem is believed to hold a range of spiritual and healing properties. Moonstone, a variety of the mineral feldspar, is named after its likeness to the moon's shimmering light. It is an opalescent gem, displaying a beautiful adularescence or sheen that resembles the moon's soft glow. This gem is predominantly found in Sri Lanka, India, and other regions known for their rich sources of gemstones.

They called her the Witch, the same as her mother; the Girl Witch when she first started trading in curses and cures, and then, when she wound up alone, the year of the landslide, simply the Witch. If she’d had another name, scrawled on some timeworn, worm-eaten piece of paper maybe, buried at the back of one of those wardrobes that the older crone crammed full of plastic bags and filthy rags, locks of hair, bones, rotten leftovers, if at some point she’d been given a first name and last name like everyone else in town, well, no one had ever known it, not even the women who visited the house each Friday had ever heard her called anything else. She’d always been you, retard, or you, asshole, or you, devil child, if ever the mother wanted her to come, or to be quiet, or even just to sit still under the table so that she could listen to the women’s maudlin pleas, their sniveling tales of woe, their strife, the aches and pains, their dreams of dead relatives and the spats between those still alive, and money, it was almost always the money, but also their husbands and those whores from the highway, and why do they always walk out on me just when I’ve got my hopes up, they’d sob, what was the point of it all, they’d moan, they might as well be dead, just call it a day, wished they’d never been born, and with the corner of their shawls they’d dry the tears from their faces, which they covered in any case the moment they left the Witch’s kitchen, because they weren’t about to give those bigmouths in town the satisfaction of going around saying how they’d been to see the Witch to plot their revenge against so-and-so, how they’d put a curse on the slut leading their husband astray, because there was always one, always some miserable bitch in town spinning yarns about the girls who, quite innocently, minding their own business, went to the Witch’s for a remedy for indigestion for that dipshit at home clogged up to his nuts on the extra-large bag of chips he ate in one sitting, or a tea to keep tiredness at bay, or an ointment for tummy troubles, or, let’s be honest, just to sit there awhile and lighten the load, let it all out, the pain and sadness that fluttered hopelessly in their throats. Because the Witch listened, and nothing seemed to shock her, and frankly, what would you expect from a woman they say killed her own husband, Manolo Conde no less, and for money, the old fuck’s money, his house and the land, a couple hundred acres of cultivated fields and pastures left to him by his father, or what was left of it after his father had sold it off piece by piece to the leader of the Mill Workers Union so that, from then on, he wouldn’t have to lift a finger, so he could live off his tenants and apparently off his so-called businesses that were always failing, but so vast was the estate that when Don Manolo died there was still a sizable tract of land left over, with a tidy rental value; so tidy, in fact, that the old man’s sons, two fully grown kids, both out of school, sons by his legitimate wife over in Montiel Sosa, rolled into town the moment they heard the news: heart attack, the doctor from Villa told the boys when they showed up at that house in the middle of the sugarcane fields where the vigil was being held, and right there, in front of everyone, they told the Witch that she had until the next day to pack her bags and leave town, that she was mad if she thought they’d let a slut like her get her hands on their father’s assets: the land, the house, that house that, even after all those years, was still unfinished, as lavish and warped as Don Manolo’s dreams, with its elaborate staircase and banisters decked in plaster cherubs, its high ceilings where the bats made their roosts, and, hidden somewhere, or so the story went, the money, a shedload of gold coins that Don Manolo had inherited from his father and never banked, not forgetting the diamond, the diamond ring that no one had ever seen, not even the sons, but that was said to hold a stone so big it looked fake

John Cheever used to tell how when he was a young man, living in New York with his wife, Mary, he d put on his suit and hat every morning and get in the elevator with the other married men in his apartment building. To get in, he forged his own letters of recommendation; two years later, he was asked to leave for failing math and other crimes, among them eating potato chips while leaning out the window.

This gem is predominantly found in Sri Lanka, India, and other regions known for their rich sources of gemstones. In many cultures, moonstone is regarded as a powerful amulet of protection. It is often worn as jewelry or used in rituals to ward off negative energies and bring about positive transformation.

They Called Her the Witch

They called her the Witch, the same as her mother; the Girl Witch when she first started trading in curses and cures, and then, when she wound up alone, the year of the landslide, simply the Witch. If she’d had another name, scrawled on some timeworn, worm-eaten piece of paper maybe, buried at the back of one of those wardrobes that the older crone crammed full of plastic bags and filthy rags, locks of hair, bones, rotten leftovers, if at some point she’d been given a first name and last name like everyone else in town, well, no one had ever known it, not even the women who visited the house each Friday had ever heard her called anything else. She’d always been you, retard, or you, asshole, or you, devil child, if ever the mother wanted her to come, or to be quiet, or even just to sit still under the table so that she could listen to the women’s maudlin pleas, their sniveling tales of woe, their strife, the aches and pains, their dreams of dead relatives and the spats between those still alive, and money, it was almost always the money, but also their husbands and those whores from the highway, and why do they always walk out on me just when I’ve got my hopes up, they’d sob, what was the point of it all, they’d moan, they might as well be dead, just call it a day, wished they’d never been born, and with the corner of their shawls they’d dry the tears from their faces, which they covered in any case the moment they left the Witch’s kitchen, because they weren’t about to give those bigmouths in town the satisfaction of going around saying how they’d been to see the Witch to plot their revenge against so-and-so, how they’d put a curse on the slut leading their husband astray, because there was always one, always some miserable bitch in town spinning yarns about the girls who, quite innocently, minding their own business, went to the Witch’s for a remedy for indigestion for that dipshit at home clogged up to his nuts on the extra-large bag of chips he ate in one sitting, or a tea to keep tiredness at bay, or an ointment for tummy troubles, or, let’s be honest, just to sit there awhile and lighten the load, let it all out, the pain and sadness that fluttered hopelessly in their throats. Because the Witch listened, and nothing seemed to shock her, and frankly, what would you expect from a woman they say killed her own husband, Manolo Conde no less, and for money, the old fuck’s money, his house and the land, a couple hundred acres of cultivated fields and pastures left to him by his father, or what was left of it after his father had sold it off piece by piece to the leader of the Mill Workers Union so that, from then on, he wouldn’t have to lift a finger, so he could live off his tenants and apparently off his so-called businesses that were always failing, but so vast was the estate that when Don Manolo died there was still a sizable tract of land left over, with a tidy rental value; so tidy, in fact, that the old man’s sons, two fully grown kids, both out of school, sons by his legitimate wife over in Montiel Sosa, rolled into town the moment they heard the news: heart attack, the doctor from Villa told the boys when they showed up at that house in the middle of the sugarcane fields where the vigil was being held, and right there, in front of everyone, they told the Witch that she had until the next day to pack her bags and leave town, that she was mad if she thought they’d let a slut like her get her hands on their father’s assets: the land, the house, that house that, even after all those years, was still unfinished, as lavish and warped as Don Manolo’s dreams, with its elaborate staircase and banisters decked in plaster cherubs, its high ceilings where the bats made their roosts, and, hidden somewhere, or so the story went, the money, a shedload of gold coins that Don Manolo had inherited from his father and never banked, not forgetting the diamond, the diamond ring that no one had ever seen, not even the sons, but that was said to hold a stone so big it looked fake

Some believe that moonstone can open the mind to intuition and psychic abilities, enhancing one's spiritual journey. Moonstone is also associated with femininity and is said to have a profound connection with the energy of the moon. It is believed to harbor the soothing and nurturing energy of the moon, helping individuals embrace their feminine power and intuition. This connection to the moon's cycles is said to bring balance and harmony to one's emotions and reproductive system. The gem is also considered a powerful aid for those on the path of self-discovery and self-expression. Moonstone is believed to enhance creativity and inspire new ideas, making it a popular choice among artists and writers. It is said to stimulate the imagination and help individuals tap into their inner depths to uncover hidden talents. Moonstone is also known for its calming and soothing properties. It is believed to alleviate stress, anxiety, and emotional instability. By promoting a sense of inner calm, moonstone helps individuals find peace and tranquility, especially during times of emotional turbulence or uncertainty. In addition to its emotional and spiritual properties, moonstone is believed to have physical healing properties as well. It is said to aid in hormonal balance and regulate the menstrual cycle. Moonstone is also believed to relieve symptoms associated with menopause and assist in fertility and conception. Moonstone's gentle yet powerful energy makes it a valuable gem for anyone seeking spiritual growth, emotional healing, and balance. Whether worn as jewelry or used in meditation and healing rituals, moonstone can serve as a reminder of the moon's magical energy and the endless possibilities for personal transformation and growth..

Reviews for "music makrr"

music makrr