.

ماها در اصل خیلی وقته که مردیم

Let there be spring where there was winter,

Let there be green where there was grey…

Dear Self:

TODAY, U WILL SHINE

Come in my shore where there are million things to say
I return from before, and the memories never fade
now I wanna see you take me, into your arms
don’t wake me
until a new day has begun

ندای عشق تو دیشب در اندرون دادند

 فضای سینه حافظ هنوز پر ز صداست

.

بعضی چیزا هست که هیچوقت کهنه نمیشه

هیچوقت

.

I should’ve learned my lesson before

Nothing is worth it

My heart is what matters the most

۱۳۸۹/۰۷/۱۸ : (۲۰۱۰/۱۰/۱۰)

Eighth Birthday

Parisaa.com

How right our Aryan ancestors were to create gods. We seek $..€..X, and are left with two private bodies on a stained bed. The larger €r0tiC dream, the god, has eluded us. It is so whenever, moving out of ourselves, we look for extensions of ourselves. It is with cities as it is with $..€..X. We seek the physical city and find only a conglomeration of private cells. In the city as nowhere else we are reminded that we are individuals, units. Yet the idea of the city remains; it is the god of the city that we pursue, in vain.

پ.ن. ما آزمودیم در این شهر بخت خوبش – بیرون کشید باید از این ورطه رخت خویش