Ro Ro Ke Puchti Hein Bano Shah e Zaman Se
KIROKAZE
wallacepolsom

roma★
Jules of Nature
Peter Solarz
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

No title available
NASA
Sweet Seals For You, Always
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
we're not kids anymore.

titsay
No title available
occasionally subtle

pixel skylines

Andulka

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

tannertan36

No title available
styofa doing anything

seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Tunisia

seen from Mexico
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seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Poland

seen from United States

seen from Mexico

seen from United States
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seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Saudi Arabia
@dasht-ae-tanhai
Ro Ro Ke Puchti Hein Bano Shah e Zaman Se
Islam Ke Daman Men Bs Is Ke Siva Kya Hai, Ek Zarb-E-Yadulla-Hi Ek Sajda-E-Shabbiri
(Allama Muhammad Iqbal)
Touching grass is not enough; I need to travel far over the misty mountains cold.
A Palestinian holds a sling during a protest marking the 70th anniversary of Nakba, near Ramallah, in the occupied West Bank May 15, 2018.
REUTERS/Mohamad Torokman
Sweet family of Pallas cats (Otocolobus manul) in Qinghai province, China.
ai generated images make me increasingly sad and tired the more i see them in more and more casual contexts. i dont know how to explain, but it just fills the world with a bunch of nothing. no matter how visually stunning the pictures might be, there's nothing behind it for me. no dedication, no emotions, no feelings, no hard work or creativity, nothing i can truly think about, admire or enjoy. i dont think thats how art is supposed to be
Khodāyā māh dar āmad, yāram cherā nayāmad?
God the moon has come out, why hasn’t my love arrived?
Tamannaaon mein uljhaayaa gaya hoon/ Khilauney dey key behlaayaa gaya hoon
-Shaad Azimabadi
In the web of desires I have been caught/With the gift of toys have I been bought
شاہ است حسین و بادشاہ است حسین
دین است حسین و دین پناہ است حسین
سر دادن و نداد دست در دست یزید
واللہ کہ بنا لا الہ است حسین
شاہ بھی حسین ہیں، بادشاہ بھی حسین ہیں،
دین بھی حسین ہیں، دین کی پناہ بھی حسین ہیں،
سر دے دیا مگر اپنا ہاتھ یزید کے ہاتھ میں نہیں دیا ،
حقیقت تو یہ ہے کہ لا الہ کی بنیاد بھی حسین ہیں۔
Josh Malihabadi | Marsiya: "Hussain Aur Inqilaab" | Ruby Haider | Joy of...
The ballad of reading gaol | Oscad Wilde
what bothers me most about Fennell’s adaptation of Wuthering Heights is the discourse that continues to be propagated (often by women themselves!) that because it was written by a woman, the novel must reflect the kind of relationship the author secretly dreamed of, that she was quirky, dark, perhaps secretly romantic in a morbid way. if it had been written by a man, everyone would say: “oh, the author is analyzing toxic relationships through these characters. he’s criticizing them.” it always bothered me that Brontë was immediately branded as a weird lovelorn woman, when in reality there is not much in her biography to attest to that. she was just a very intelligent writer who thought about a very intelligent subject like any of her male counterparts.
the canon always sees men as universal observers and geniuses who undertake social studies, but when it comes to women, they are reduced to being mere subjective chroniclers of interiority, supposedly recording their personal romantic fantasies.
many novels contain a romantic thread. among other things, Wuthering Heights opens with one. but most of the book is about revenge, cruelty, trauma, inheritance, generational damage etc. and yet, because it was written by a woman, only the love story is treated as significant.
if Wuthering Heights had been written by, say, F. Scott Fitzgerald, critics would likely praise the ruthless anatomy of obsession. I am just so sick of this. I sure would love to see the day when The Great Gatsby is marketed as the greatest love story ever told, overflowing with loose erotic scenes, rather than the highbrow social critique it’s usually presented as. the idea that women write “from emotion” while men write “from intellect” is still too deeply sedimented in how we talk about art.