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of dreams & reality..

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“All men dream; but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds Awake to find that it was vanity;  But the dreamers of day are dangerous men.  That they may act their dreams with open  eyes to make it possible.”  ~ T. E. Lawrence (aka Lawrence of Arabia)

from Florence with love...

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It is difficult not to fall in love with a city that is a living definition of art, culture and music. Florence is a delight. It truly is! From musical streets to sky rising churches, multifold bridges to petite art stores tucked under bridges and between the ridges of wide streets...
First week of August may not be the best time to travel Italy as Sun god is really kind and humidity is at its peak but anytime is a good time to be a solo travel a city with such a rich soul. Every street has a story to tell and history to re-live.
A city, written like a poem, to be read as a verse..
from Sunset boulevard, overlooking Arno
*
a paradise of hand-bound books, illustrated with history, decals of florentine motifs, woven into delicate tapestry of fine architecture...
 illustrated angel & alike
charms on the doorway 
enthralling mysteries of parallel street














warm niches . colossal drawings













paper folds . paper tells 


from Florence with love...

Life's a ride...

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Balancing through.

signing off with nostalgia...

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Dear future me, 
Dreams can be pensive, illusive and figments of your imagination but your reality is nothing but a combination of all that. Never stop venturing into dreams, they make your reality...
with love. me.







Today!

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a song, a piece of music, beautifully arranged notes of whims, evoking every sort of emotion. A day dedicated to the unrest, struggles and magical laughter...
September, be good!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOiNdM22aIs

~Flamboyant | Queer | Rustic | Present~









Images courtesy : Tumblr & Pinterest.

चाय

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~ all my tea ~  a store, pursuit of stories, art, music and love, brewed with a cup of tea... https://www.pinterest.com/yogita24/all-my-tea/
meddled with creepers, cobbled streets, warm doorways and charmingly aged shops
adorned walkways
of riddles and rhymes
brewing cultures
...continuing the theme ...
Tins.
uniquely, Oriental
wall of colours &...
of pots and cups...

setting for a ceremony
like a ritual...
house of flavours
noted!


~ store of flavours & stories ~

walk in the farm..

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enchanted. by the fragrant musing,  by parsley, rosemary,  sage and thyme...
 enlivened. by spices, sugary scents of life,  watching the trail of light documenting it, as a tourist  as a traveller, as a pilgrim
enthralled. by a dream here, one there  tuned to the notes of unheard music,  one here, one there...
enigmatic. long walks on unknown by-lanes hitching, hopping over the  left-overs of last night rain
excited. as something is changing,  something different, something powerful and with it I, caressing joy on every step
enchanted. i say, bring it on!


Silent murmur

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I believe, to change is the most difficult decision, yet the easiest way to reform. The act of change is transitional, not at one, but at many levels. Transformation dawns only once you settle in. 
When it is happening you are the one controlling it and once that it is done, all that you left behind in the process of letting go, is the part of your soul which you may never see again, the reflections might stay the same.
The place i called home, that known feeling, the lanes and by-lanes which took me to all the places i held dear, familiar faces of the shopkeeper in the neighbourhood, counted steps to the ATM, to that lake who was my companion as the sun used to set, falling of the dusk and knowing 5:58 to be the time of sunrise...
Those cafes, the vagrant soul, churches which defined the city and the mindless strolls, conversations with random strangers on the roads, in bus, with auto walas, struggling with the language, and when nothing else used to work, expressing the confusion with …

RUMI

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Rumi and she have known each other for a while now. Her first encounter with this mystic being happened when she was very young and knew nothing about urdu poetry. An extraordinary poet who spoke of love and friendship like no other, of myths and happiness like no other.  Recently, she has stumbled upon a book by this mystic and now she is relishing in her own myths, deciphering her own happiness, knowing that someone else has walked a similar path away from the world, closer to the wonderment called I...
truly dear Rumi, what i was seeking has been seeking me... Thank you for reassuring :)

"I want to see you. Know your voice. Recognise you when you, first come 'round the corner. Sense your scent when I come, into a room you've just left. Know the lift of your heel, the glide of your foot.
Become familiar with the way , you purse your lips then let them part, just the slightest bit, when I lean in to your space and kiss you. I want to know the joy of how you whisper more"

some …

meet me under the stars..

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The city is bustling with sounds And here, under the stars, there is nothing But silence, silence like a song, a melody Oh, so well known to my heart.
Clusters of stars, feigning to be together Portraying the magic, imitating how our horizons meet And still leaves are put to motion As some crickets have disturbed fireflies.
And my dreams coincide with reality, Under the blanket of stars, where I lie making patterns Almost like a child, playing, connecting the dots,
Leaving pockets, urging you to read in between.
Engraved into my soul, is the rhythmic chatter of the wood Being broken by the midnight fire Gusto, wind and fragrant jasmine Lurking through my hair like your fingertips.
Time has conveniently lost track And moon has taken up the role of timekeeper, sigh! Shining though one thought at a time Weaving the crimson of passion and blues of longing.
You should meet me under the stars Where there is a paradise built by illusions Chiseled in the spinning fire Experimented and perfec…

cure for distress...

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Art . Travel . Tea mnemonics of happiness

Bombay!

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of adorned walls and crowded lanes, 
a city with a sea and some hills, 
serenity in its loud hauls, 
searching for a sudden pause...

...i'm no swag, i'm simple, plain, rather ordinary. I have no jazz, only a simple head that is capable of thinking, dissecting and deciphering. I have studied varied subjects, all had one conclusion keep it simple, yet there is pressure to maintain an image, a facade, a shell that is sophisticated, polished to let others slip..I rather not do that. I would rather embrace others! I'm Bombay! 

as soon as you step in, you are part of this well orchestrated band..
familiar faces, familiar language, not so familiar landscape...and a constant awareness of running into people you might have met in the years gone by!

memoirs of the 3 beautiful days // Dec 2014
















in middle of absolute chaos, to be able to hear your heart, loud......more

Hello 2015!

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Since the time I started clicking, I always planned on doing a calendar, until today it never happened for many reasons...all gone with 2014. Here it is, 2015...a collection of images, numbers and seasons put together in one sheet, stacked! Each picture has a story, each story, it's characters... poignant, flamboyant, notorious, pensive, alive...