Thinking of the deported refugees at the border without any shelter spending the 2nd consecutive night in the rain after having had their entires lives uprooted.
How are we ever gonna face these people
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@leekunkay
Thinking of the deported refugees at the border without any shelter spending the 2nd consecutive night in the rain after having had their entires lives uprooted.
How are we ever gonna face these people
when we accidentally made eye contact but instead of smiling we both looked away
"زه خو ستا ده زرګي سر يم ستا ده تورو شپو صحر يم,
مخ را واوړوا جنانه ته خو مخکے داسے نه وے",
زه به مخ در واوړومه چے ته څوک يي ده کم ذۍ يي,
ځکه زه به ليونۍ يم تا به نه پيځنم ياره.
"I'm the love of your life, the dawn to end your night,
Turn around and face me, you used to be so different",
I turned to look at you and couldn't recognize a thing,
For I'll be ailed of a broken heart and wouldn't know myself at all.
Anywaays the reason I'm here is for a mini rant resulting from me over thinking about the words "treat her like a princess" used in media.
From the outside that looks well and good but i believe it perpetuates chauvinism in men and young impressionable boys as princesses are often potrayed as fragile, vulnerable, without any real power and requiring saving.
Kuchh khwahishein adhoori ho toh khuda kitna yaad aata hai.
پاتې شوي آرمانونو کې ته را ياد شے,
ورانو زلزلو کې ته را ياد شے,
چې ناجوړا يم ريږديږم ته راياد شے,
چې در په در ګرزيږم ته راياد شے,
هر ځل مے تش مطلب کے ېي ياد کرۍ,
خو ته بيا هم هر ځلې ماته پام کے.
-versesofourhearts
@redigul
هر چا نه يم زه پاتې,
هيڅ چا نه کړم زه خپل,
زه ده ځان پکار نه شوم,
په ما به څه اوکرې څوک بل,
خلکو ويل وخت به دې راشي,
دا دروغ به ما هم ځان ته کول,
دنيا دې ځر فنا شي,
چې اخرو اوينم زه خپل.
— Nizar Qabbani, ‘Light Is More Important Than The Lantern’, (tr by B. Frangieh And C. Brown) (via lunamonchtuna)
تش کرۍ سټلۍ نه شم که خوند نه وي ده کبابو،
زه مين په پياله نه يم زه مين يم په شرابو.
Anytime i hear the wail of a whale i think of Laboon.
An original storyline with a big enough word count and writing that sucks you in, except that there are a few select scenarios which always described in the same exact way, word to word that pulls you away from the text.
یاد ماضی عذاب ہے یا رب چھین لے مجھ سے حافظہ میرا
Life is so much more enjoyable when you think about stuff, and think about the joy hidden in plain sight. Overthinking is so underrated, i'd rather sit in a dark corner and think about how enjoyable life is at that very moment rather sitting under the glow of chandeliers with people all around me that drowns out the voices in my head.
Ironically, the ability to have an internal dialogue with myself is probably the only thing keeping me sane rn.
I appreciate the people who i have shared my grief with over the years but nobody could ever console me like i do.
I may be giving myself too much credit. A huge reason of why i'm not going crazy is because sometimes when i read i'll come across something that so perfectly resonates with me at that moment. In a very non grandiose and a very trivial way it makes it seem like everything in life lead me to read these few lines at this moment to bring me comfort. An illustration is as follows,
"In felt anxious and impatient, like everything around me was moving in slow motion while I was trying to sprint ahead. I wasn't sure why. It took me some time to put my finger on it, but the reason was simple:"
I had been feeling very down, time just didn't seem to pass. I had to overload my senses in order to not feel like i was falling into a bottomless pit. The character had different reasons but when i read this paragraph everything about my own reason for my own anxiety seemed to fall into place and everything made so much sense.
Ironically, the ability to have an internal dialogue with myself is probably the only thing keeping me sane rn.
I appreciate the people who i have shared my grief with over the years but nobody could ever console me like i do.
I'm pleased to announce that the moral collapse of society is not just a Pakistan phenomenon but a worldwide thing. Ever person whatever their caste, creed, race, nationality and religion, is as depraved as the other.
O Allah place me among the inheritors of the Garden of Pleasure without punishment or account.
Foggy winter morning are my favourite, except when i'm travelling. But something about them just makes me want to have chai and sip the day away.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but the white man will always be a tyrant.
Anything and everything i read about a small boring town in rural America, where the populace is so low that everyone knows everyone, has a diner or a fast food joint that is surprisingly cheap, and without an exception every last one of such places has a waiter and cook who're saints that are always kind and friendly and upbeat