Curated sources of knowledge is a vast deep ocean to dive in.
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A few from Topkapi Palace




graphs of my Universe
Curated sources of knowledge is a vast deep ocean to dive in.
—
A few from Topkapi Palace




Eyes blink to clean themselves, to not see things except Turkish evil eye.
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You don’t need so much love to find love around. Make it with a little love.
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Missing you is losing some pixels from mind; life becomes less vibrant.
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Fly. See land from above. Wide, broad, one whole. Bird eye, one gift from heaven—
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A journey starts. A journey ends. A route is colourful when observed—
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A loving visit beyond time and space. Salaam. Universe answers.
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One by one one makes dream come true one way or another. Best wishes.
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Nothing is wasted; only goes through cycles and uses. Or don’t use.
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Written on this soul, your footsteps making sweet songs sung by the green birds.
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Hi morning, let’s dance. Tell tomorrow I’m happy to dance in all tunes.
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Another new year with another long weekend. Added holiday—
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Laughter is the breeze caressing the hair waving to the morning sun.
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A posting landed on my Instagram’s Home, it was Charlie Chaplin’s small details that are meaningful to me who love to laugh but often fail to make jokes. Most of my jokes are garing (crispy-dry, not funny; Bahasa Indonesia slang). 😁
Salaam.





Any day can be sweet with some setting on the tongue. Avoid chilli.
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Pink roses in a vase welcome seven cold guests, turning them to smiles.
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Free will? What is that? This breath is what you blow in to me to love you.
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Realising more and more that her life is free of free will; she needs causes and reasons to do anything she does even for her brain to think about what things to think of— there is a bond invisible and invincible.
She surrenders to the bond. 💝
Happy weekend.
Salaam.

In a bright corner she’s seen. The sun sends her light reflecting bright life.
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How many tastes can she experience in joy? 5 or 7?
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Realising that the best taste is not any of those 5 or 7; the best taste is only 1: to love. 😊
Days of love be like…










Friday, this bright light blinks to the eyes not stopping staring at the heart.
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Dolls dance following the rhythm of the carver’s breath. Standing ovation—
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Armchair sits in a corner in silence enjoying the breeze. Serene—
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Is it lazed or slowed? The day seems long without you around the pink sky.
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Welcomed by a home with greenery to be cooked, she builds a sweet mood.

There’s home that’s missed lingering around the heart. Let it in with joy.
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There is memory shared around a round table at a starry night.
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Towers will mostly collapse of weak foundation…. Or the strongest quake
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There’s fire kindled, prayer sung, fragrance bellowed in ceremony.
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A white lamb on the lap of a dreamer daydreams of her dreaming sweet.
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White foam on turquoise sweeps back to dark blue deeper to where secrets are.
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The wings are flapping sprinkling blessings through the air. Breathe them. Be blissful.
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In Arabic angel is called malaaikatun or malaaikah or simply malaaikat (الْمَلٰٓئِكَةِ) literally meaning “power that governs”. In Islamic tradition the “power that governs” are grouped based on what type of assigned power they govern that are many and one of them is “power to govern protection”.
I always believe I am fully protected through the existence of the angels surrounding me although I am not interested to discuss about their form; people say angels have wings, others say they are made from light, some say malaaikah are systemic laws to run the universe, and so on and so forth. It doesn’t matter to me. That they exist and follow the assigned “power to govern” is enough for me.
Only when we listen, we will hear. We will hear the songs of the angels, the songs of universe, the songs of the heart, the songs of the soul. I prefer my angels to sing jazzy songs in this end of long weekend. 😁
Listening to heart…. 💗
Salaam.

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