A picture, and a Thousand Words

As a part of the Cyber Activism Conference that is to take place between 9-13 May in Copenhagen, we were asked to submit materials for an exhibition in the House of Poetry. I submitted a couple of pictures along with a text about each picture. I might have posted most of these pictures before but having to say something about them made me view them in a new light, and since I’ve written the texts (one of them I actually took from an older post) I thought I might as well capitalize on that and blog them.

Amman:  the heart wants what it wants

No matter where I go, no matter what beautiful things I see, a part of me always yearns to go back to Amman. The city whose streets I know, and they know me too. A city where the old meets the new. A city where familiarity is personified in the flight of a flock of pigeons, and love lurks behind every wall

The eye, and the beholder

A horse is like a mirror. It reflects your feelings, your thoughts. It’s the best friends that knows what you want to say before you say it. It’s the therapist that makes you feel better when you’re feeling gray. It’s Beauty in one of its purset forms. It’s a proof God exists, and the love you yearn for deep inside

A sea of thoughts

I can think of a few things better than sitting by the sea alone with a book. It’s like catching up with an old friend who has all the stories in the world to tell you. Just the two of you, listening to the sound of waves breaking against the shore, not a care on your mind, at least for the time being. It’s a lifetime within a lifetime where the world outside this realm doesn’t seem to exist


Home is where the heart is, where the mind dwells, and to where the soul migrates with every thought. Home is a place you can never be away from, no matter how far the distance is

Cat unwinding

I used to be afraid of cats. Yet, once I decided to conquer my irrational fear and started to get up-close and personal with them, I was hooked. There’s something irresistibly childlike about them. The way they stare, the way the play, but above that all: the way they so openly seek to be spoiled. I love watching them, being around them, but most of all, I love taking pictures of them


I’m not the eyes with which you see, not the tongue with which you speak, not your heart that beats with life, not the air you breathe, not the blood that runs in your veins, not the light that guides your way, but I’m a part of all that, and with that you shall cherish me…

I’m a wave leaving the shore, a gust of eastern wind, a touch of flawless Art, a refuge from the complex, a taste of the mystic…

I am the miracle of life


5 responses

  1. Pingback: Danilevski, Alexandre – Picture, biography, and major works. » Blog Archive » Pictures of cinnamon

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