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⚖️ The Weight We Carry
Read more: ⚖️ The Weight We CarryHome There are sorrows that root themselves so deeply, no celebration can lift them. They remain, unmoved, like ancient stones in the landscape of the soul. And yet, around them, life continues to unfold. A door opens, a gathering awaits, light spills across the surface. Happiness comes, yes but it hovers gently, never dissolving the…
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🌧️ Rain Travels With Me
Read more: 🌧️ Rain Travels With MeHome In a room that holds neither mine nor borrowed weight, I rest— a guest to its walls, yet rooted by familiar laughter. Outside, the cloudy sky travels with me, rain tracing quiet paths on each new window. My heart drifts, threaded between the silent pulse of my studio and these warm, momentary branches of…
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🌟✨ Threaded by Light
Read more: 🌟✨ Threaded by LightHome A reflection born from Rumi’s wisdom of unity beneath form. Within this veil of borrowed shapes, no “I” remains, only a quiet current threading every face, every fleeting breath. These lines of light and shadow are not mine, nor yours— they are whispers of a soul that neither ages nor divides. What we call…
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🌘 When Wings Forget the Sky
Read more: 🌘 When Wings Forget the SkyHome There are days when even birds don’t believe in flight. They curl inward, as if sheltering something too delicate to name. A moon appears— not as a guide, but a witness. Watching with quiet disapproval how we falter under weightless things: a number, a silence, a delay that blooms into despair. No one sees…
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🪶 The Quiet Power of Not Fitting In
Read more: 🪶 The Quiet Power of Not Fitting InHome In a world structured by reason and framed by definitions, we are often urged to translate our feelings, identities, and inner landscapes into legible forms. We’re taught to value what can be measured, defended, or explained — as if presence itself must justify its existence. But what if some aspects of being simply refuse…
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🎇 Before the Internet, There Was Infinity
Read more: 🎇 Before the Internet, There Was InfinityA reflection on the beauty of a slower, deeper time Home Sometimes I long for a world that no longer exists — not because it was perfect, but because it was present. A world without internet, where connections were slower but deeper, where our attention belonged to the moment, not to algorithms. This piece is…
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🔷 Turning Inward: Why I’m Disconnecting for Now
Read more: 🔷 Turning Inward: Why I’m Disconnecting for NowHome These past days have been unbearably heavy. As war and violence unfold in my homeland, I find myself overwhelmed — not just by grief and fear, but by the relentless noise of it all. Every news update, every post, every comment on social media feels like a wave crashing into my already fragile heart.…
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🐚 A Shell Still Whole After the Waves
Read more: 🐚 A Shell Still Whole After the WavesHome For the past two days, I’ve been caught in a tide I didn’t expect. Not physically — I’m far from the missiles, the air-raid sirens, the flickering TV screens. I’m in another country. A different time zone. A different reality, at least on paper. But war has its own way of reaching you. I’ve…
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🌌 Surrendering to the Light: A Gentle Act of Sanity
Read more: 🌌 Surrendering to the Light: A Gentle Act of SanityHome Tonight, I choose to feel good. Not because life has suddenly become easier, not because the world has stopped unraveling but because I made a conscious choice to step out of the shadows of constant thinking, constant bracing, constant grief. I shut down that part of my mind that keeps tallying every tragedy, every…
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🌃 Tehran, Where I Learned to Dream and Endure
Read more: 🌃 Tehran, Where I Learned to Dream and EndureHome Tonight, my heart aches for Tehran — not as a capital, not as breaking news, but as the city that once held eight of the most formative years of my life. I am not from Tehran, but I lived there long enough for it to become a part of me. I walked its restless…
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☀️ On a Day of Sunshine and Shadows
Read more: ☀️ On a Day of Sunshine and ShadowsHome There are days when the world feels heavy, and yet—somehow—I feel light. Today is one of those days. I carry sorrow, but it does not carry me. This is a note to myself, a reminder that beauty, resistance, and tenderness can live in the same heart. The Art of Inner Resistance Today, the sun…
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🩵 Where the Light Still Falls
Read more: 🩵 Where the Light Still FallsHome There is a corner of the world that no headline can reach. A quiet garden — in her heart not big, not grand, just enough space for sunlight to spill across thyme and marigold. The air smells of warm earth and crushed mint. A bee forgets the war and dives into a blossom. A…
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🧿 The Art of Quiet Protection
Read more: 🧿 The Art of Quiet ProtectionHome The angel slept. Not from defeat— but from the deep exhaustion of feeling too much. And in the quiet hours, wings folded like prayer, a new stillness was born. Now, morning comes. The angel rises, rested, sharpened by dreams, lighter in sorrow, stronger in grace. No longer bothered by buzzing flies, no longer distracted…
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💫 Even Angels Grow Weary
Read more: 💫 Even Angels Grow WearyHome —for the nights when the light dims but doesn’t disappear Even angels fold their wings, not in defeat, but in need— of stillness, of silence, of the sky to carry them for once. They, too, drift through quiet hours when prayer feels like an echo, and the clouds press low as if hiding the…
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♥️ Melancholy as a Ladder
Read more: ♥️ Melancholy as a LadderHome Turning sorrow into fuel for the creative soul This post is a continuation of my previous reflection on sorrow and happiness . I’ve been thinking more deeply about melancholy — how it shapes us, how it threatens to drown us, and how, with care, it can become a strange kind of ally. Melancholy is…
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🌙 Dreams, and the Places We Don’t Visit
Read more: 🌙 Dreams, and the Places We Don’t VisitHome Our dreams are not predictions. They are reflections—of our fears, our hopes, our thoughts and joys, our sorrows and longings. They mirror the state of our inner world, often more clearly than we realize. The more we live in peace with ourselves—honest, grounded, and open—the more our dreams unfold with clarity. They become soft…
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🌌 The Birds That Stay: On Trusting What We Cannot See
Read more: 🌌 The Birds That Stay: On Trusting What We Cannot SeeHome Even when I cannot see the way, I paint the birds who never leave. Because someone, somewhere, is still watching me—like a mother in the crowd. When I was four years old, I got lost in a bazar. I remember the moment like a flash of lightning—people everywhere, noise, my tiny hands shaking as…
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🏳️ A Quiet Flag of Trust
Read more: 🏳️ A Quiet Flag of TrustHome Not every day needs to be loud. Some days are for trusting the silence. I place this post like a stone on the path — not as an ending, but as a quiet mark of where I am. I’m here. I trust my way. And I’ll keep walking. We don’t need to explain. We…
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〰️ On Trusting the Unfinished: The Art of Not Knowing
Read more: 〰️ On Trusting the Unfinished: The Art of Not KnowingHome There is a moment—fleeting, wordless—when the brush meets paper and something beyond me takes over. I don’t plan it, and I don’t polish it. I simply respond. And then, I stop. Not because the work is finished in the traditional sense, but because something tells me to stop. A quiet authority, invisible and holy,…
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📐 Sacred Geometry and the Memory of Order
Read more: 📐 Sacred Geometry and the Memory of OrderHome On the invisible balance behind every act of creation Before we ever speak of beauty, we sense it. And often, what we sense is not the subject, but the structure — something quietly holding everything together. Like bones beneath skin. Like silence between notes. Like the way a window turns the outside world into…
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🧵 Invisible Threads: On Belonging Without Fitting In
Read more: 🧵 Invisible Threads: On Belonging Without Fitting InHome There’s a particular kind of homesickness that doesn’t go away — even after years, even when life seems settled. I often miss my homeland, but deep down I know that going back wouldn’t bring the comfort I long for. Too much time has passed. Too much has changed — not just there, but in…
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🤐 When Words Are Not Enough
Read more: 🤐 When Words Are Not EnoughOn judgment, contradiction, and the quiet unfolding of what is meant to be Home Each day, we scroll through streams of beautiful quotes. Ancient wisdom repackaged for modern lives: Be kind. Don’t judge. Let go. Trust the process. The flower doesn’t compete with the one next to it—it just blooms. How graceful they sound. How…
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☁️ Where Is Happiness in a World of Sorrow?
Read more: ☁️ Where Is Happiness in a World of Sorrow?We often hear that we should fight sadness, resist sorrow, and overcome melancholy—as if they are enemies of a good life. But what if they are simply companions on the path? What if fighting them is not only futile, but also dishonest? Because the truth is, we are all struggling—each in our own quiet way—to…
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🎧 Creating in a Loud World: On Art, Integrity, and the Quiet Path
Read more: 🎧 Creating in a Loud World: On Art, Integrity, and the Quiet PathHome There are days I wonder if I’ve chosen the hardest path—the path of making from within, without shouting, without selling a story louder than the work itself. For many years, I made art alongside my profession, carrying my creative voice like a secret garden I would tend in solitude. Now, having stepped fully into…
Felt, Paint & Reflection 