f's phrase of the week: Yes, Clinton is a liar--but Trump is the lie itself.

the smallest kindnesses--bringing someone their tea; sending a line of poetry; saying "i care"; saying "good job"; a surprise hug; a joke; a smile; a treat--are so large in my mind, that the scale of everything calls for redefinition

davood's phrase of the week: It would be so much better if life was like when you were watching Friends.

warmest birthday wishes

to our darling boy, whose voice was so light today, and so warm, that my heart went all aflutter

to our beauty, who spent the night on or around my feet in the most gerdaloo shape possible

... with all my love

sat at my desk this morning and wept with the unexpected shock of nostalgia, sent from across the ocean, from an unlikely source, from a rare beauty

Muslim Magomaev, with the charming name so clearly evocative of his rich cultural background, the "King of Songs," the pop star with the voice of an opera singer, entreating the sea to take him far, far way

Сердце, как друга море встречает 
Сердце, как песня летит из груди 

The heart, like a friend, is met by the sea
The heart, like a song, flies from your chest

weighty [paraphrased] words from Canadian Nancy Heslin, Editor-in-Chief of the Riviera Reporter, who spoke about the enclaves of the disaffected, the marginalized. She has lived in Nice for 15 years; she has received French citizenship; but she will "never feel French; they will never let you. This is not a problem of Islam and the West."

inspired by/based on an old blog post: Platonism

my life in pictures

it's after many, many years that i've started posting photos again--and, because it's not the medium i'm used to, i can't help but sprinkle in writing along the periphery. i handwrite other people's poetry because it makes me feel closer to the text; i take a picture because i like the look of pen on paper. as with everything, i'm at risk of over-sharing.

https://www.instagram.com/adva_kate/

عيد مبارك

crowds of worshipers on their way to the local mosque this morning signalled the end of Ramadan.. kurta, taqiyah, keffiyeh glowing in the blistering heat

how inexplicably beautiful they looked to me... and how the scene froze in my mind as one of great comfort

faced, today, with the terrible limits of language...
trying so hard to relay all the warmth in my heart