Faemmora

لما كل اللي تغير من لاست نوفمبر لحد هذا لون شعرك ونادم علي

Or music

Send me songs @Aphroditefemelle30BOT

Miss my piano sm

I can't do it for one hour theses days

I truly don’t understand ppl who have the energy to talk for hours with others.

A lover dream Love moment frozen in time

الشجاعة أمام المجهول : «قُدرَةُ المرءِ على أنْ يكونَ حائرًا ويواجِهَ الغرائبَ والشكَّ والمَجهول من غيرِ أنْ يَدفَعَه خوفُه وانزِعاجُه لأن يركُضَ عبثًا وراءَ العقلِ والعِلم».

We and beauty are one and the same, and that sometimes beauty itself recognizes its own reflection in us. Perhaps that is why it exists so vividly within a rare few. Others may carry beauty dormant within them, but it may never rise to the surface or find its way into being.

Sometimes, I find myself overwhelmed with thoughts about the mysterious things that feel undeniably true to me, even without any evidence, like love and beauty. They seem like endless wells of emotion and feeling. I've been wondering whether an experience like beauty is an existential event, an entirely subjective experience in which the observer and the observed meet. It's almost like a call and response. The eye cannot simply choose to perceive beauty at will; beauty itself requires an inner readiness, a kind of unspoken permission, to reveal itself to the soul. As if beauty were entirely a spiritual response, deeply personal and individual, with a voice that will forever remain hidden in the shadows, unclear and invisible, yet profoundly felt by a rare few. It whispers. It chooses those who possess the sensitivity to hear it within themselves.