aesthetic words
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It can be between the curves of your hands
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1 min read
Destiny — qadar, they say. It can be between the curves of your hands, and still not yours. — Sadia Hakim
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Komorebi — sunlight filtering through the leaves
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1 min read
Some days, the world feels heavy, shadows stretching long, but then a break in the leaves lets the sun in, and suddenly, everything is golden again.
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Anamnesis: the recollection of past memories
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2 min read
Maybe life is not about seeking, but about remembering. Maybe we are not meant to search for meaning, but to recognize the meaning that has been a part of us all along.
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Umbrance — unspoken influence | aesthetic words
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3 min read
I love how two people have the power to shape each other’s souls, destinies, journeys, destinations, and realities—positively or negatively.
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A new journey into rare and meaningful words Lovely Seyferts, I am officially launching the Neo-Logophilia Series—a neologism-based poetry project for those who love rare and aesthetic words infused with real-life depth. This journey began in 2019, when everything led me to pioneer the Blue Academia Project—a space dedicated to my lifelong love for words…
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In another life, in another world — astropoetica
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4 min read
In another life, I know love by its taste, by its touch, by its warmth, by its presence, by its aroma, by its pattern.
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It took me years of betrayals and lessons to finally realize that not all people are humans in their very existence.
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I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry
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3 min read
How many times must I apologize for simply existing? Somewhere along the way, I learned that my presence was something to be excused. That my voice was something to be softened. That my feelings were something to be hidden beneath layers of “I’m sorry”—as if breathing too loudly was a crime, as if needing space…
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I think that’s the problem. Either I love too much or not at all. Either I enjoy your company or feel disgusted by every moment. I live to the extremes. I think that’s the problem. Either I dream too much or not at all. Either I crave the silence or drown in the noise. Either…
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If I am visible, why don’t they see me?
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1 min read
If I am visible, why do they treat me like a ghost? And if I am invisible, then why does this mirror reflect the light scattered by my silhouette? Even a mirror acknowledges my presence but people won’t. — Sadia Hakim // Letters Unsent Read, I am a black butterfly poem, here.