Shatteredinks-blog - Faani

I will miss these kind of moments when it comes to an end.. 4am studying vibes never come to an end for me. I’ve found much solace in these hours with Allah over the years.

Ya Allah, extend these days and do not let them end for me. I can’t explain how sad I get when I think about my studies coming to an end. May the light of knowledge stay with me for as long as I live.

Stephanie Garber, Once Upon a Broken Heart

It takes something more than intelligence to act intelligently. ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

cannot sleep too busy thinking of scenarios

the older i get, the more i need time & personal space to be as boring as possible

‘Children of Shatila’ (Lebanon, 1998) film by Mai Masri. In this scene the youth of the Palestinian refugee camp interview an elder with a video camera.

I went to the market to buy some blood. I told the owner, ‘show me your finest blood’. He pointed me in the direction of the blood that was most fresh, that of London and Paris and Manchester. ‘It is exquisite’, I told him, ‘but it is not what I am looking for’ Then he showed me the blood of Germany and Orlando and Brussels, blood that had been healing months after it had been split. ‘It is extraordinarily’, I told him, as I watched it tend to it’s wounds, ‘but it is still not what I am looking for.’ 'Is there nothing finer?’ I asked. He shook his head and replied 'sorry ma'am, that is all I have’. And with a heavy heart I turned away, ready to walk. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw a river of magnificence and magnitude, enriched with something I could not recognise. 'What is that?’ I asked, turning to them once more. 'That?’ He replied, 'It is nothing.’ 'No!’ I cried, 'tell me!’ 'That’, he said, 'is the blood that is worthless. No one wants this blood ma'am. It is discarded blood and disowned by the rest of the world’ 'Who’s is it?’ I cried. 'Well’, he said, 'where do I begin?’ And with a deep breath he said; 'It is the blood of Palestine, Infused with the cries of Syria, And the grief of Afghanistan. It is the screams of Burma, Mulled with the tears of Iraq, And the suffering of Somalia. It is the sorrows of Yemen, Alongside the weeping of Sudan, And the sweat of Pakistan.

diaryofaniqaabi // pray for the world (via diaryofaniqaabi)

“Some people feel like they don’t deserve love. They walk away quietly into empty spaces, trying to close the gaps of the past.”

— Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘒𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦,

"𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘩𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶-𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘐𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥'𝘴".

𝘔𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺.