I’ve Had Thousands Of Conversations With You In My Mind, Loving The Version Of You That No Longer Exists.

Of all the things that remind me of love, cats are at the top of the list. Their eyes hold something different, something enchanting, like a silent understanding of the world around them. They love in their own way—warm, selfish, and a little bratty, like a child who thinks you belong to them. Sometimes, they act like your baby, sometimes like your boss. Every single one of them has a personality that makes me want to meet them all, build a whole cat family, and just exist among them.

Orange cats are pure chaos, but somehow the softest souls. White cats carry themselves like royalty, too elegant to bother with the rest of the world. Gray cats act all calm and collected, but they’re little troublemakers once you know them. Black cats hold a quiet kind of love, the kind that feels steady and safe. And tuxedo cats walk around like they own the place, like they just left a fancy dinner party and decided to grace us with their presence.

Every cat feels like a reflection of someone, a reminder of a certain kind of soul. And the best thing about them? When one chooses you, they’re yours forever. They love in a way that’s awkward yet endearing, poking at you when you’re sad, pulling away just to come right back. And the way they get jealous when you pet another cat? Nothing beats that.

There’s nothing quite like having a cat in your life, feeding them, talking to them, sharing a space where words aren’t needed. In a way, they remind me of my inner child—curious, stubborn, and full of love in ways that don’t always make sense. Maybe every cat carries a little piece of someone, a little piece of us. But all I know is, I love them, and I’ll never get tired of saying it.

Green

Laura Pashby

We are, each of us, a little Universe.

- Neil deGrasse Tyson

داخل كل شخص مجرة من الأفكار والتجارب والذكريات، محيطات من المشاعر والرغبات، وأقمار تدور حول أحلامه.

Winter’s air holds pieces of us.

Black Beach - Iceland, 2016

Connection is the energy that is created between people when they feel seen, heard, and valued.

- Brené Brown

كيف أخمدتَ الأمل بداخلي نحوك؟

حتى أن عقلي لم يعد يحاول مراوغتي،

أنظر إليك، فيهمس لي:

"لم يعد لك."

لكنّك تنظر إليّ، فتهمس:

"افتقدتُ عينيك."

لا شيء في كلماتك يتخللني،

لا شيء في وجودك يُشبهك،

كأنّك لم تكن، كأنّنا لم نكن.

كيف أخمدتَ الأمل بداخلي نحوك،

وتركتني أختبر هذا الفراغ؟

كيف لعقلي أن يرى هذا عادلًا؟

أن أتذكّرك، فينتفض قلبي،

ثم أتذكّر أفعالك… فيخمد كل شيء.

how do you live knowing pieces of you exist in a world where I don’t?

One day, maybe,

his eyes will look at me again—

but from another face.

A child running, laughing,

with pieces of him that aren't mine.

And I’ll be walking through it all—

touching everything we knew.

A flower,

the grass,

the lies written in the photos.

He’s everywhere,

just never with me.

But tell me—

how could you share a piece of yourself

with someone else?

To love without direction, without a goal,To love for being, pure and whole.

Andrei Tarkovsky, from a diary entry featured in Time Within Time; Selected Diaries

عيناه تتلألآن كالنجوم، تُمسيانني أمنيةً، أمنيةً واحدة، وهي أن أكون سماءً تحتويهما...

تُعالج ندبات قلبي، هل أتوصل كيميائيًا إلى هذه الوصفة يومًا؟ أأحتفظ بدواء لكل مستحيل؟ تختفي، وأرى قلبي صالحًا مجددًا، جديدًا كأنني بعمر الثالثة – ربما ليس أكثر.تكبر تلك الطفلة بداخلي، وهي تحبك.

لا، لا تدرك ذلك حتى الآن، لكنها لن تجد مصطلحًا آخر أقوى لوصف تلك الرابطة بينكما. ستتمنى لو تظل حولك دهرًا، وستتذكر أن لا دهر يسعُ ما تود.

تنظر إلى السماء، وإلى عينيك... علامات استفهام، وتعجب، وإجابة واحدة: القمر!

ستمنحه قلبها، سيظل دهورًا، يضيء جنبًا إلى جنب مع عينيك، ولعينيك.