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Encountering EmancipationEncountering Emancipation
The cage was opened but she didnt fly. A bird forgets to fly if she is kept in a cage for years. My daughter read the last sentence of the book, the book got closed and she was upset. In the living room, her eyes fixed on the drawer of the TV trolley, she was trying to find something. Focused in even small things, she would never compromise on putting her best in anything she does. She is my girl but completely unlike me.
What are you trying to find? I have just cleaned that drawer yesterday.
Who uses it in our house that you will find it?
I will find it myself. You dont worry. You just see this.
I am sitting on a long sofa and trying to relax while she is busy in her treasure hunt for the correction pen. Tasneem passed me a photograph. Photographs bring memories back and you feel like you are back in that old time, living all those moments again. It was her childhood photograph
The Invisible ManI was sitting there like an invisible man. It was by my own choice. A lady came to the street where ATM stood tall. I was waiting since so long. I robbed her. The ladies who who saw me are now dead. The street was not a busy one. There were only four females, one got robbed and three got killed. Why did I leave the one whom I robbed? The answer is simple. I love hiding, like an invisible man. The hide and seek game was listed as an achievement in my resume of life. Secondly, I only rob a person once. There were only two choices either rob or shoot. I chose money and I am still the invisible man. Police is still trying to find me but they wouldn't be able to find me because I am an invisible man.
I was sitting there like an invisible man and dreaming such non-sense.
Thank you - Mom - you rockA mother love is everybody's first love.
So is mine, and will always remain.
Maa, Thanks for always being there.
For being my best buddy.
For doing every possible thing to make me happy.
For all the time, support and moments we share.
For shaping my personality.
For encouraging me every time.
For seeing dreams from me.
And all the unconditional love.
Now its my time.
I wish and pray I can do the same.
Wish me luck.
Love ya Mom.
Love of a full year, one day of recognition
Love of a lifetime.
And you my dear God, you are great. Life is indeed a blessing in so many ways and its only you who could make such special creations.
My MomMother - a feminine manifestation of love. Love that is name of sacrifice for her when she doesn't eat something so her child (no longer a teen) can enjoy eating it. Love, which shapes up as hope when she wants her son to be best and succeed. Love molds into her pride when her darling walks up to the rostrum and gets an award. Love which turns into aggression so she can fight for his son's survival, fetching for him his well-deserved recognition. Love becomes support and guidance, ever ready to be given whether he wants it or not. Her love can be illustrated as a hug, as a pat on her back, or may it be a compliment or simply, magical and soothing "Love".
My mom – a part of me, she is part of my life – most appropriately – she is my life. She is so very important I live through her breaths. I am her reflection, ambition, hope and faith and she is my mirror. Her love is unconditional, priceless and precious. Thank you my dear God for giving her to me as a blessing of yours.
Haunting Deja VuHaunting Déjà vu
It was Friday the 13th. The fairy angel was walking aimlessly whole night. The night, which was under the magical spell of full moon, betrayed the fairy by taking away all her magical powers. Though she still had her wings intact but now they were just reduced to ornamental prominence. She could no longer fly in the wind. The wind danced to the howling of the wolves and snatched the red roses out of the mother tree's hands. If fairies had blood in their bodies, she would have surely bled out completely from such treachery but her wings were red due to the color that roses shed to share sorrow with her. The bed of roses crushing under the angel's feet led to a grave. She was so engrossed in her spirit's hollowness that she didn't know she was in a graveyard. On reaching close, the sight and the mind started to converse with one another. Her consciousness took the message that her senses were trying to convey; it was her worldly name on the grave. But the fact sti
Before the dawnI
Ahmed was deeply engulfed in a book. He was enjoying the first printed edition of a vintage book. He loved to collect antiques and then sell them so other people can have the pleasure equally. Old is Gold, and they truly believed its preciousness. Similarly there is nothing like first love.
Sara entered the antique shop. He went to the entrance to receive her.
"A donut for you."
"Like always, thanks"
Antique furniture and there conversations were a routine. Ahmed excitedly showed Sara the new addition to hBedis collection.
"I got this book for just $10. They were throwing this valuable piece into trash. A 50s original. See! This is a first edition print. It is a personally signed copy."
"Very interesting. Great addition to be exact."
"So how was the day at the shop?"
"The usual plain donuts, sugarcoated people."
"That isn't that boring!"
"Just stand there for some hours and you'll know"
"Did you make any new sketches?"
"The ones which are for the university projects."
"I would love t
He's InsaneHe knows he was special, he always felt that uniqueness somewhere inside. He knows the fact that never in the history has been anyone exactly like him, nor will there be again. He also knows that every man was unique in his own way but he is among the lucky few people who realize it.
He is loud and full of life in the deepest details. He loves to talk but it was not the case when he was a child. He didn't speak for two years on this earth because of which his parents were quite worried. They consulted a doctor and after the checkup the result was out. "Whenever he'll speak, he'll speak to such an extent that it will be difficult for you to make him silent", predicted the doctor back then. The guess came true; he is a complete chatter box. Now he wants to be a motivational speaker. He wants to change the world and the minds by using this skill in his workshops where he can help people to improve and kindle a spark of hope in them. He believes small steps lead to a bigger change. People
The Chance The Chance
"What do you mean by saying we should give this relationship some more time?"
"Are you mad? I don't have any free time to spare, at least not for you"
"But Faiz… I can't even imagine my life without you."
"Do one thing, take some sleeping pills! It will help you to get some sleep, at least for tonight."
Faizan ended the call. He always used his left hand to do so, always. As soon as he pressed that button, his sight went to the watch that he was sporting on his wrist of the same hand.
The gold-plated watch compelled the memories to flow from his mind into his heart and continued its journey with the blood completing its uninterrupted cycles throughout the body. It was his twenty second birthday when he was gifted this watch by her girl friend Mayra.
"Thank you so much. I simply love it."
"After all our choices are so similar."
"..and I love you."
He could smell her aroma in his bedroom. Place where they shared some lovely moments, strangely not toget
Remembering the SeasonsUnder a cozy couch, she snuggled down her body wrapped in a warm blanket. Feeling the chilly wind caressing her face entering the room from an open wooden window showing the breathtaking view of the snow covered garden. Simultaneously she pressed the play button on the remote control of the DVD player. A cup of hazelnut flavored coffee held tight between her soft hands; she was watching a romantic movie. The atmosphere outside the house and the drama inside the idiot box resembled in the same frequency as fire reminds you of passion. Relationships were cold and haste between the characters and the streets were freezing and deserted. But in this bitterness, she was enjoying the heat of the summers residing in the ambience around her personal vicinity and the spring touched her heart with the flower motive embroidered on her jacket resting upon her left breast carrying the love organ.
This was the first paragraph that Mr. Teva read in the book titled Falling Leaves. The book e
A Different Sense of RealityReality: The state of being real,
Real: actual, true, genuine
What is real and what is unreal? Where does reality end and fantasy begin? These two realms of real and unreal, reality and fantasy, are not divided but intermingled.
Tell me; when you read a story, a work of fiction, that engages you and makes you feel happy, thrilled, angry or sad are those feelings unreal or real?
When a character in said story dies, are you not saddened?
When injustice is done and the villain reigns are you angered?
So now tell me; does said story cease to be fantasy or does it forever stay within the realm of the unreal?
I say these characters and these worlds that are dubbed as fantasy become just as real to us as the very chair you are seated in right now.
I say reality is subjective, reality is what we make it.
I also say; I live in more than just one reality.
VillainsVillains are generally considered evil or bad. They challenge the status quo, upset the way things are, and don’t seem to care about rules or laws. Not all villains are alike though. Not all of them are wanton killers or trying to end the world.
Take Mega-Mind for example. He was pushed into the role of villain, he didn’t actually hurt anyone, and all he really wanted was recognition. And Dr. Horrible? All he wanted was to change the world, overhaul the system and rule with his love by his side. Unfortunately, in a show down with his nemesis Captain Hammer, his Death Ray broke, and exploded when Captain Hammer tried to Kill Dr. Horrible with his own gun. It killed the love of Dr. Horrible’s love instead.
There are many movies and books about “heros” who are less likeable than some of the villains they face. They are arrogant, rude and obnoxious. One of the most applauded “Villains” of all time is Robin Hood. He broke laws and upset the st
Alexander the FakeEver heard of Alexander the Great?
Do you believe he is real, that he existed and did all things we have been told he did? Of course you do. It is in our history books, so it must've really happened.
Alexander the Great ruled in the 300's BC. We know a great deal about him based on written documents giving us historical accounts of his life and deeds. Did you know though, that the only surviving documents of these historical accounts were written 300 or more years after Alexander the Great lived? Yet we trust these documents and the older sources they cite, even though we do not have those older sources available to confirm what is written.
Now what about Jesus? I know many people who do not believe He existed. Yet we have historical documents, both those of the Bible and those unrelated to the Bible that give us accounts of Jesus.
The Biblical documents were written as early as 30 years after the death of Jesus! And non-Bi
Holocaust Reflection : Reflection on UsVisiting the Holocaust Museum is a difficult subject, especially in Israel. Unlike many museums which are houses of a people's history and triumph, this museum is a walk through a people's history and suffering. The Holocaust stands as a mark of identity for modern-day Jews just as World War II stands as a mark of identity for most Westerners of the past three generations (born 1910-1995).
We are now moving into the third and fourth generations past the Holocaust and WWII, where things such as “Nazi” and “Communist” and people such as Hitler and Stalin have become more of a byword than a warning for future generations. Many people are all too likely to associate government actions with the Nazi party and many people are just as ready to roll their eyes.
When visiting Yad Vashem (the site of the Museum) I entered with a reverent and somber silence, in my mind befitting such a chapter of our human history. I found it odd, then, to find teenagers in there laughing,
Raw hopeThis is raw hope. This isn't structure, this isn't style. This is "universe looking itself through new eyes" - through eyes that are trying to solve a problem, to learn a lessson. This is pure hope, this is believing in future, beliveing that this has a purpose.
This is something that I would delete, throw away, regret. I've written a few; now deleted. I've told myself that I won't delete it. I have deleted them. This is life, this is an attempt to jump into the flow, and in the end think that it was a pretty good ride. This is a permission slip. This is an untamed dream. Of a possiblity.
Not a dream of writing, but possibly. This is a message that says: i'm somewhere. I exist. I want to make you aware of it, I want to see, to feel, to create. I want to be the universe looking itself through new eyes and think to itself that it's okay. That it's allowed. This message is a open-handed invitation to life, hope and dreams.
I have a lot of personalities. I would like to write about them. I
Lessons in Writing III: The Value of TextureLessons in Writing III: The Value of Texture
So much of the information we receive about the world around us comes to us through our eyes. Our sight allows us to quickly and easily judge an object’s size, shape, and colour. When we meet people for the first time, their appearance is usually the very first thing we notice and often what we remember best, long after we have parted.
But our sense of touch is important too, albeit more subtle. As children we love plush toys because of the softness they have in comparison to everything else. When we’re toddlers, we put our hands on everything because we relish how different things feel from one another: the fibres of thick carpet contrast with the smoothness of wooden floorboards; our parents’ hands feel so much larger and rougher than our own; and the graininess of sand stands apart from the clumping of mud.
As adults, we retain our love of textures, particularly contrasting textures. One of the things I love most
SMILESmile does it for everyone. Just a smile. Have you ever received a smile from stranger? It is so selfless that it just gets into deepest chord of your heart. You know it is not fake. You can feel the warmth and the joy. Even fake smiles work. It has a fair chance to make you happy but more than that it does make other people feel special. Still try to put a heartfelt smile rather than a fake one. Smile to everyone, even if that person is a stranger. Who knows that smile can change that person life forever. Who knows that smile can vanish some anxiety/worry which had a strong potential to make a huge lost afterwards. Who knows that smile can give him/her a zeal to live.
Pass it on with a smile
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More