tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56661866842208455852024-03-09T01:07:24.421+05:30Aarti HarishWelcome to my world....see the beauty...as I see it...!!Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.comBlogger1144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-1199265078188171122021-03-05T19:35:00.004+05:302021-03-05T19:35:50.036+05:30True love...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b_LPUTpTZYA/YEI6V4-B8VI/AAAAAAAB7hM/ZhYMWNamBFsYnehj5B0OL_FsrbXQ5Dk7wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1931/Polish_20210305_192851687.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1931" data-original-width="1523" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b_LPUTpTZYA/YEI6V4-B8VI/AAAAAAAB7hM/ZhYMWNamBFsYnehj5B0OL_FsrbXQ5Dk7wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210305_192851687.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>To love without condition, to talk without intention, to give without reason, to care without expectation; That's the spirit of true love.</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-51158941849138931072021-03-04T12:39:00.000+05:302021-03-04T12:39:27.567+05:30Grandmother...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hgw5Daj49vM/YECGmAZq8gI/AAAAAAAB7ZU/VrDOAQJv4kEse6NzQx4NciKwOO9JKCCkwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210304_123332459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1447" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hgw5Daj49vM/YECGmAZq8gI/AAAAAAAB7ZU/VrDOAQJv4kEse6NzQx4NciKwOO9JKCCkwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210304_123332459.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A chalk pastel sketch of my husband's maternal grandmother,Ramanibai, at the age of 15. This picture was clicked around 1940.</p><p>"Grandmothers and roses are much the same. Each is a God's masterpiece with different names."</p><p>- Unknown</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-44405578404952479852021-03-02T21:15:00.000+05:302021-03-02T21:15:14.530+05:30She looked like art...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T7XcuUj14KA/YD5dF_1P-jI/AAAAAAAB7UQ/pSqdA1PxgTMErGuVU65KsyE6kjdeMCWKQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210302_210233661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1464" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T7XcuUj14KA/YD5dF_1P-jI/AAAAAAAB7UQ/pSqdA1PxgTMErGuVU65KsyE6kjdeMCWKQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210302_210233661.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>She never looked nice. </p><p>She looked like art and art wasn't supposed to look nice. It was supposed to make you feel something.</p><p>@thinkingminds</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-69323507724139440962021-02-26T14:31:00.001+05:302021-02-26T14:31:16.715+05:30The Horse...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MpTP12KgjC8/YDi4zSaU6aI/AAAAAAAB6-o/GZaoscJHyvEfg_96ib4LSVOwdIDjNRvRQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1868/Polish_20210226_142532897.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1868" data-original-width="1435" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MpTP12KgjC8/YDi4zSaU6aI/AAAAAAAB6-o/GZaoscJHyvEfg_96ib4LSVOwdIDjNRvRQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210226_142532897.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>“The horse. Here is nobility without conceit, friendship without envy, beauty without vanity. A willing servant, yet never a slave.”</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-27008306141559848272021-02-25T18:35:00.004+05:302021-02-25T18:35:34.312+05:30The change...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5LdAeYlJk1M/YDegT3IUjaI/AAAAAAAB66Y/9Z13DDFXQFsIHxCBoLgTdBtYIEPN71UYACLcBGAsYHQ/s1920/Polish_20210225_183317650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1391" data-original-width="1920" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5LdAeYlJk1M/YDegT3IUjaI/AAAAAAAB66Y/9Z13DDFXQFsIHxCBoLgTdBtYIEPN71UYACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210225_183317650.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>The move you are afraid to make,</p><p>could be the one that may change you completely!</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-23640672102402822402021-02-24T19:36:00.001+05:302021-02-24T19:36:09.699+05:30Vicious circle...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuOpBdHgshA/YDZaU_Uo6YI/AAAAAAAB6wU/mBJj4DmmsuALfWBZtLT1OtjrClV0VQAIwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2044/IMG_20210224_192202__01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2044" data-original-width="1450" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuOpBdHgshA/YDZaU_Uo6YI/AAAAAAAB6wU/mBJj4DmmsuALfWBZtLT1OtjrClV0VQAIwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20210224_192202__01.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #6a6a6a; font-family: Verdana, Arial, "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: 17.6px;">Another source of fallacy is the </span><strong style="background-color: white; color: #6a6a6a; font-family: Verdana, Arial, "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: 17.6px;"><strong>vicious circle</strong></strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #6a6a6a; font-family: Verdana, Arial, "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: 17.6px;"> of illusions which consists on the one hand of believing what we see, and on the other in seeing what we believe. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #6a6a6a; font-family: Verdana, Arial, "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: 17.6px;">— </span><strong style="background-color: white; color: #6a6a6a; font-family: Verdana, Arial, "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: 17.6px;">Thomas Clifford Allbutt</strong></p><p><br /></p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-9504745233712423612021-02-24T18:02:00.003+05:302021-02-24T18:02:29.324+05:30Broken inside, Gucci outside...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTRSMkur088/YDZG9eZZ-JI/AAAAAAAB6vo/bQwbIJ8_tEcNW8suJCcn9FpkH6FpqFWEACLcBGAsYHQ/s1680/Polish_20210224_175709101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1643" data-original-width="1680" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CTRSMkur088/YDZG9eZZ-JI/AAAAAAAB6vo/bQwbIJ8_tEcNW8suJCcn9FpkH6FpqFWEACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210224_175709101.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br style="background-color: #303134; color: #bdc1c6; font-family: Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;">Inside my heart is breaking</span><br style="font-family: Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;">My makeup may be flaking</span><br style="font-family: Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;">But my smile, still, stays on</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="font-family: Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;">The show must go on</span></span></p><p><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; font-family: Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;">The show must go on, yeah...</span></p><p><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: #303134; color: #bdc1c6; font-family: Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-33620193031374355342021-02-21T10:49:00.003+05:302021-02-21T10:49:41.625+05:30Nobody like you...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M1wPQbzuBP4/YDHtSKi5VlI/AAAAAAAB6cA/WOIxC_M7QkMEczsQmar4uDDr8FfGmSpBQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210221_104624679.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1186" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M1wPQbzuBP4/YDHtSKi5VlI/AAAAAAAB6cA/WOIxC_M7QkMEczsQmar4uDDr8FfGmSpBQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210221_104624679.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>“Personality is every individual’s signature trait. There will never be anyone like you, therefore hold on to what makes you so special as a person, a character, and a human being.”</p><p>Anonymous</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-54779111759988551632021-02-19T18:35:00.001+05:302021-02-19T18:35:57.494+05:30High...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P44Rrv9Y-7Y/YC-3BKoncDI/AAAAAAAB6Y4/Hyn4Gz9jghMs429FKF-WjS9hwROJiS-bgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210219_182806448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1477" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P44Rrv9Y-7Y/YC-3BKoncDI/AAAAAAAB6Y4/Hyn4Gz9jghMs429FKF-WjS9hwROJiS-bgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210219_182806448.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="background-color: rgba(127, 127, 127, 0.125); color: #777777; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol"; font-size: 16px;">High people understand other high people. They catch things that others don’t.</span></p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-68192904483515049632021-02-19T12:04:00.006+05:302021-02-19T12:06:23.845+05:30Pulled by steady tides...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j7NdQFr2U50/YC9bpch_qCI/AAAAAAAB6X8/bTK-rAcDbwQcHG_AFqsMtgX5VGIso2XLQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210219_120242123.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1537" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j7NdQFr2U50/YC9bpch_qCI/AAAAAAAB6X8/bTK-rAcDbwQcHG_AFqsMtgX5VGIso2XLQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210219_120242123.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><blockquote class="quoteBody" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 25px; text-indent: -30px;">Half of me is filled with bursting words and half of me is painfully shy. I crave solitude yet also crave people. I want to pour life and love into everything yet also nurture my self-care and go gently. I want to live within the rush of primal, intuitive decision, yet also wish to sit and contemplate. This is the messiness of life - that we all carry multitudes, so must sit with the shifts. We are complicated creatures, and ultimately, the balance comes from this understanding. Be water. Flowing, flexible and soft. Subtly powerful and open. Wild and serene. Able to accept all changes, yet still led by the pull of steady tides. It is enough.</blockquote><div class="quoteDetails" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; padding-left: 25px; padding-top: 10px;"><span class="quoteAuthor" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 10px 0px;">Victoria Erickson</span></div>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-53668760611660316002021-02-19T10:45:00.002+05:302021-02-19T10:45:51.475+05:30Mood...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K12N2ueIw9s/YC9JVizrzvI/AAAAAAAB6XI/1SJyGGVMlYMw0zUOe3OwSbDRE1ryfEZ5ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210219_103931246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1577" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K12N2ueIw9s/YC9JVizrzvI/AAAAAAAB6XI/1SJyGGVMlYMw0zUOe3OwSbDRE1ryfEZ5ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210219_103931246.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Once you've ruined your reputation,</p><p>You can live quite freely!</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-38759891802632927202021-02-18T20:33:00.004+05:302021-02-18T20:33:59.779+05:30I'd choose you...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--SgPhaWENvg/YC6Bwa6-gCI/AAAAAAAB6VA/07Ir-7SCaDUQSSFtKEKoxnojUgOnxh-MACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210218_202714273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1317" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--SgPhaWENvg/YC6Bwa6-gCI/AAAAAAAB6VA/07Ir-7SCaDUQSSFtKEKoxnojUgOnxh-MACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210218_202714273.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>“And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.” </p><p>– Kiersten White</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-27118927638348839782021-02-18T12:44:00.003+05:302021-02-18T12:44:57.656+05:30You're my home...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hTSkLbwD64s/YC4T1Yq2_nI/AAAAAAAB6UU/l-prbxmuIu8XPYR1rbr9RXNCOfiPQaWlQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210218_121944305__01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1341" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hTSkLbwD64s/YC4T1Yq2_nI/AAAAAAAB6UU/l-prbxmuIu8XPYR1rbr9RXNCOfiPQaWlQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210218_121944305__01.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Your memory feels like home to me.</p><p>So whenever my mind wanders, it always finds it’s way back to you.</p><p>Ranata Suzuki</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-68643120129960548122021-02-17T17:57:00.000+05:302021-02-17T17:57:00.747+05:30Heaven...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f5SgyTs8lpo/YC0LYa_Sb5I/AAAAAAAB6Rg/3Bua6VptUpEqCpe7bzbzxX_alkMgUSURACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210217_175241822.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1574" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f5SgyTs8lpo/YC0LYa_Sb5I/AAAAAAAB6Rg/3Bua6VptUpEqCpe7bzbzxX_alkMgUSURACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210217_175241822.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>“A little flower that blooms in May</p><p>A lovely sunset at the end of a day</p><p>Someone helping a stranger along the way</p><p>That's heaven to me”.</p><p>-Sam Cooke</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-34254040205835242352021-02-17T16:03:00.001+05:302021-02-17T16:03:57.363+05:30'til death, we do art...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C9jED2UH3Og/YCzvXtVhfuI/AAAAAAAB6RM/qRlluGpY9tUfFGYjgCvGPm15mYlPbJcZwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1591/Polish_20210217_152353590.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1591" data-original-width="1570" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C9jED2UH3Og/YCzvXtVhfuI/AAAAAAAB6RM/qRlluGpY9tUfFGYjgCvGPm15mYlPbJcZwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210217_152353590.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Art is not always meant to be decorative or soothing, in fact, it can create uncomfortable conversations and stimulate uncomfortable emotions.</p><p><br /></p><p>Shepard Fairey</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-39866167352533885552021-02-17T15:56:00.001+05:302021-02-17T15:56:20.069+05:30Sunshine...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ninymbIA-Aw/YCzvONfCkwI/AAAAAAAB6RI/BmYA0bOlQaM5zEAPGWeZZQKTCpZpO9RDwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1761/Polish_20210217_155420731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1761" data-original-width="1711" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ninymbIA-Aw/YCzvONfCkwI/AAAAAAAB6RI/BmYA0bOlQaM5zEAPGWeZZQKTCpZpO9RDwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210217_155420731.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Keep your face to the sun and you will never see the shadows.</p><p>Helen Keller </p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-17595821417148251312021-02-16T21:48:00.001+05:302021-02-16T21:48:01.822+05:30Memory and fantasy...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IpSiWkTLlpc/YCvvbWKeuHI/AAAAAAAB6N4/OqIZLk0qRjUMs0trlN0KWt-OF2i-Xa8LACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210216_214337658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1570" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IpSiWkTLlpc/YCvvbWKeuHI/AAAAAAAB6N4/OqIZLk0qRjUMs0trlN0KWt-OF2i-Xa8LACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210216_214337658.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>For what, after all, is the difference between a memory and a fantasy? Are not both a succession of imprecisely rendered images further obscured by imprecisely chosen words and animated only by the wistful effort of one's imagination? And who is to say that a vividly imagined moment of happiness is not, in the end, more enriching to the spirit than a hazy semi-recollection of some pallid pastime?</p><p>Olga Grushin, Forty Rooms</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-30706342264718671852021-02-16T18:43:00.000+05:302021-02-16T18:43:21.154+05:30Don't read my mind...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-De8r8cH4Q_c/YCvD19mMTSI/AAAAAAAB6Mc/JldhvzZ6hiIQoP3CvgLhNUqB_HubMym7ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210216_183421070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1453" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-De8r8cH4Q_c/YCvD19mMTSI/AAAAAAAB6Mc/JldhvzZ6hiIQoP3CvgLhNUqB_HubMym7ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210216_183421070.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="quoteDetails" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; padding-left: 25px; padding-top: 10px;"><span class="quoteAuthor" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 10px 0px;">So don't try to touch my heart, it's darker than you think</span></div><div class="quoteDetails" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; padding-left: 25px; padding-top: 10px;"><span class="quoteAuthor" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 10px 0px;">And don't try to read my mind because it's full of disappearing ink </span></div><div class="quoteDetails" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; padding-left: 25px; padding-top: 10px;"><span class="quoteAuthor" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 10px 0px;">- Author: Elvis Costello</span></div>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-37513410343342971352021-02-16T09:35:00.001+05:302021-02-16T09:35:35.817+05:30No reason...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ji0rozi3RU/YCtDRYOnf3I/AAAAAAAB6Ig/exykGaPPUh4-GMitjItCXNbCXHyt70ICACLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/IMG_20210216_085621__01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1460" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ji0rozi3RU/YCtDRYOnf3I/AAAAAAAB6Ig/exykGaPPUh4-GMitjItCXNbCXHyt70ICACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20210216_085621__01.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>“If I could say it in words there would be no reason to paint.”</div><div><br /></div><div>— Edward Hopper</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-14911753949376288082021-02-12T21:46:00.001+05:302021-02-12T21:46:44.361+05:30Moledro...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7sePQ-J4oJY/YCamUdyG20I/AAAAAAAB5wY/uaPXE6Wrn44KoN0Hpw-mO1uvpfVdocQzwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20210212_204601__01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1401" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7sePQ-J4oJY/YCamUdyG20I/AAAAAAAB5wY/uaPXE6Wrn44KoN0Hpw-mO1uvpfVdocQzwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20210212_204601__01.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>moledro</p><p>n. a feeling of resonant connection with an author or artist you’ll never meet, who may have lived centuries ago and thousands of miles away but can still get inside your head and leave behind morsels of their experience, like the little piles of stones left by hikers that mark a hidden path through unfamiliar territory.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-27930353675213561962021-02-03T12:46:00.002+05:302021-02-03T12:46:20.311+05:30Favorite place...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LbxVUHYpKZ8/YBpNhGpvBOI/AAAAAAAB5CY/WJb62sqPmPgIn4ZTmBnjoDWVoVf_5cwxwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1872/Polish_20210203_124157538.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1872" data-original-width="1542" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LbxVUHYpKZ8/YBpNhGpvBOI/AAAAAAAB5CY/WJb62sqPmPgIn4ZTmBnjoDWVoVf_5cwxwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210203_124157538.jpg" /></a></div><br />You're my favourite place to visit when my mind searches for peace.<p></p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-30262150663460427732021-01-22T19:21:00.002+05:302021-01-22T19:21:45.198+05:30Art takes birth...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--zwma3ppiWE/YArYGgYmXLI/AAAAAAAB4Oo/VyQtkCZsyMMQZZOV7NAGd4a4Ta8ZU_vDACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210122_191806911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1461" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--zwma3ppiWE/YArYGgYmXLI/AAAAAAAB4Oo/VyQtkCZsyMMQZZOV7NAGd4a4Ta8ZU_vDACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210122_191806911.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>My art takes birth when my loneliness becomes my companion... when I take lives and deaths much personally and work when others play. When I meet myself and find that the truth of life is not the dream of tender age ... but the fire within me that creates the work of art.</p><p>Jeet Aulakh</p><p><br /></p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-47905570339066252602021-01-22T13:57:00.001+05:302021-01-22T13:57:46.681+05:30Inseparable...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ay7SCwiIoBE/YAqKA2f_NcI/AAAAAAAB4MI/gR4m6LZtcuooaGrExcAIyvsNNtFhv6KkQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1920/Polish_20210122_134549715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ay7SCwiIoBE/YAqKA2f_NcI/AAAAAAAB4MI/gR4m6LZtcuooaGrExcAIyvsNNtFhv6KkQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210122_134549715.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>“I have slept with you all night long while the dark earth spins with the living and the dead, and on waking suddenly in the midst of the shadow my arm encircled your waist. Neither night nor sleep could separate us.”</p><p>Rumi</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-78858124445896443232021-01-22T12:55:00.002+05:302021-01-22T12:55:28.733+05:30Don't belong anywhere...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2mNaw8i6Kpg/YAp9yQXiLpI/AAAAAAAB4L0/vYZbsoGL6JII13oZhA_lGsO9pZJpSKWcACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20210122_125021__01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1464" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2mNaw8i6Kpg/YAp9yQXiLpI/AAAAAAAB4L0/vYZbsoGL6JII13oZhA_lGsO9pZJpSKWcACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20210122_125021__01.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Where do you go if you don’t belong anywhere? If I wanted to run away then why come to the city? Because this is the place to hide. This is the place to be invisible. Anyone can be no one here, and I am someone that wants to be no one.</p><p>Steven Wilson</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5666186684220845585.post-47786083475204558882021-01-16T19:20:00.002+05:302021-01-16T19:20:39.253+05:30Lonely...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UB223s6KvSs/YALthR21orI/AAAAAAAB32s/uHVFzHCHMtc73rspPm9wu2VmFZ_C0S14ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Polish_20210116_190539171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1163" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UB223s6KvSs/YALthR21orI/AAAAAAAB32s/uHVFzHCHMtc73rspPm9wu2VmFZ_C0S14ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Polish_20210116_190539171.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>You can be lonely anywhere, but there is a particular flavour to the loneliness that comes from living in a city, surrounded by millions of people.</p><p>Olivia Laing</p>Aarti Harishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04957917993427417361noreply@blogger.com0