𝑹𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝑽𝒐𝒊𝒅
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Эхо тишины в каждом аккорде . . . Тут всё погасло . . . 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎 : https://t.me/+W5Bv4CNRdrxmMmVk 𝚄𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 : @oblivescence_bot https://t.me/BChatBot?start=sc-4837c4bb6d
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Channel Posts
Repost from متناقضنما
بیستوهشتمِ بهمنماهِ چهارصدوچهار. برای آنان که جسارتی بیش از ما داشتند؛ صدای ما را از گلویشان فریاد زدند؛ باشکوه بودند؛ و امروز در کنار ما نیستند. برای آنان که زندهترینِ مردهها بودند و برای ما که مردهترینِ زندهها هستیم. انتهای این نوشته نقطه نخواهم گذاشت؛ چرا که آنها ادامه دارند؛ به پایان نمیرسند؛ در ما زندهاند؛ در خیابانها زندهاند؛ در شجاعتِ تکثیر شده زندهاند؛ در مادران و پدرانشان زندهاند؛ در فرزندانشان زندهاند؛ آنها ادامه دارند؛ از این جوانه، روزی سروی بلند علم خواهد شد و من در انتهای این نوشته نقطه نمیگذارم؛
| 2 | +1 سوگند به عاشقانِ ایران
سوگند به شورِ زاهدان
از راه رفته برنگردم تا روزِ کوچِ غاصبان
سوگند به خونِ همرهانم
سوگند به اشکِ مادران
هرگز به تیغشان نمیرد فریادِ جاودانِ ما | 1 399 |
| 3 | حالا تمام دنیا هنرت رو میبینن :) | 975 |
| 4 |  +5جاویدنام سما اسماعیلی ۲۰ ساله که نوزدهم دیماه کشته شد.
دوست سما در اکانت اینستاگرامش نوشته: «سما همیشه به من میگفت که آرزو میکنه افراد بیشتری هنرش رو ببینند.» | 871 |
| 5 | از هرکسی که تریبونی داره، مهم نیست 10 نفر 100 نفر یا +1000 نفر میخوام این پست مهم رو شِیر کنه داخل چنلش و تا حد امکان صداشون باشید، صداشون رو به دنیا برسونید نادیده نگیرید و هرچقدر در توانتون هست کمک کنید
فقط ما میتونم صدای هم باشیم
لیست های بازداشتی ها، افراد در خطر اعدام و مفقودی ها برای ریتوییت :
لیست اول.
لیست دوم.
لیست سوم.
لیست چهارم.
لیست پنجم.
لیست ششم.
لیست هفتم.
لیست هشتم.
لیست نهم.
نامشان را صدا بزن، صدای بی صدایان باش.
نامشان را بخاطر بسپار. | 1 112 |
| 6 | ما به خیابان نیامدیم از سر هیجان یا تفریح.
آمدیم چون امید در خانههایمان خاکستر شده،
چون اقتصاد نفس زندگی را خفه کرده و هیچ دریچهای برای نفس کشیدن باقی نگذاشته!
و این صدا، فریاد خشم نیست؛ فریاد بقاست!
فریادی که نمیگذارد انسانیتمان زیر آوار فراموشی دفن شود.
اما در برابر این صدا،
پاسخ، خشونت و سرکوب است.
به جای شنیدن، حذف؛
و به جای مسئولیت، انکار؛
جایی که باید گفتگو باشد، خون ریخته میشود! خونی که هیچ توجیهی ندارد و نخواهد داشت...
بیعدالتی فقط در شکمهای گرسنه نیست؛
بیعدالتی آنجاست که صدای اعتراض ما با باتوم و گلوله خاموش میشود،
و زندگیمان زیر رگبار سرکوبها دفن میشود.
نظامی که از حقیقت میترسد، دیر یا زود خشونت را جای عدالت مینشاند؛
اما حقیقت با خشونت نمیمیرد؛ فقط زخمی میشود بر تنِ پر زخم وطنِ ما...
آزادی خواستهای افراطی نیست،
عدالت تهدید نیست،
و زندگی شرافتمندانه جرم نیست!
این حق ماست و هر جامعهای که آن را نادیده بگیرد،
هزینهای سنگین خواهد پرداخت.
و آن روز، دیر یا زود فرا میرسد... | 905 |
| 7 | یکا شدی مامان جونممم | 1 |
| 8 |  خریدن این آلبوم درستترین کار زندگیم بود :)
قطعههاش به همون اندازهای که فوقالعادهان، نسخهی فیزیکیش هم بینهایت زیبا و چشمنوازه .
واقعا تشکر میکنم از تمام وقت و عشقی که برای خلق این شاهکار هنری صرف کردید🩵⭐️
@YasinLv | 5 338 |
| 9 | Merry Christmas and the bitterest Happy New Year🤩
to those who endured and carried on,
not those who celebrated . . . | 904 |
| 10 | No travel plans, no shopping malls
No candy canes, no Santa Claus | 874 |
| 11 | Happy Christmas 🎄 | 991 |
| 12 | کریسمس امسال هم خوشحال میشم درختم رو با نامههاتون قشنگ کنید :)
https://decomytree.com/home?hashedId=7neinb_BjA6G | 653 |
| 13 | A day has passed since I learned you were gone...
And six years have passed since that girl came between us...
and now, after six years, you’re beside her...
Every autumn passes with pain.
It’s still hard to believe.
But for years now, our fate and the air of autumn,
has been entwined with death...
It feels as though, when you taught me the violin,
you already knew you wouldn’t stay.
As though it has always been me
who must keep going,
even after six years.
And now, once again, it is me...
who carries the weight of this pain on my shoulders...
Once again, someone is gone...
And once again…
they left because of me... | 1 696 |
| 14 | Speaks poems of pain
Aren't we all made in
Rings of rain? | 1 505 |
| 15 | I still remember, third of December, me in your sweater
You said it looked better on me than it did you
Only if you knew how much I liked you
But I watch your eyes as she
Walks by
What a sight for sore eyes
Brighter than the blue sky
She's got you mesmerized while I die
Why would you ever kiss me?
I'm not even half as pretty
You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester
But you like her better
Wish I were Heather | 1 319 |
| 16 | Jeff Buckley - Forget her 🎙 | 1 395 |
| 17 | I'm singin' at a funeral tomorrow
For a kid a year older than me
And I've been talkin' to his dad, it makes me so sad
When I think too much about it, I can't breathe
And I have this dream where I'm screamin' underwater
While my friends are wavin' from the shore
And I don't need you to tell me what that means
I don't believe in that stuff anymore
Jesus Christ, I'm so blue all the time
And that's just how I feel
Always have and I always will
I always have and always will
I have a friend I call
When I've bored myself to tears
And we talk until we think we might just kill ourselves
But then we laugh until it disappears
And last night I blacked out in my car
And I woke up in my childhood bed
Wishin' I was someone else, feelin' sorry for myself
When I remembered someone's kid is dead
Jesus Christ, I'm so blue all the time
And that's just how I feel
Always have and I always will
I always have and always will
And it's 4 AM again
And I'm doin' nothing
Again | 1 558 |
| 18 | The room had not changed.
The piano still waited by the window, its keys pale under the moonlight, and the old violin case rested on the chair untouched, yet alive in its silence.
Outside, rain tapped softly against the glass, a slow, relentless rhythm that matched the beat of her heart.
She moved through the dim light, her footsteps soft against the wooden floor.
Every corner of the room whispered her name; every shadow seemed to hold her shape.
The air smelled faintly of rosin, wilted roses, and wet earth from the rain.
She opened the violin case.
The air trembled, as if the ghost of a melody still lingered there, trapped between the strings.
Her fingers brushed along the curve of the instrument, tracing its body like she once traced the line of her lover’s hand.
It felt like holding her again fragile, precious, gone.
She traced her fingers along the strings, trembling, reverent.
“This is how it ends,” she whispered, “with your song and mine.”
The world outside was quiet, but the rain kept falling, drumming a soft elegy on the roof.
She lifted the violin gently, close to her chest, and closed her eyes.
No one saw what followed, only heard it a single, haunting note that cut through the rain soaked night, then nothing.
When morning came, the room was quiet, the pale light of dawn seeping through rain-streaked windows.
The piano sat untouched, waiting for hands that would never return.
The violin lay across her lap, her head resting against it as though she had fallen asleep mid-prayer.
The rain had stopped, leaving the air heavy and clean, the scent of earth and sorrow intertwined.
Those who entered swore they could feel something in the room a warmth, a soft hum, as if the two had found each other again somewhere beyond the sound.
Some even claimed they heard both instruments playing that night,
a duet from two souls who refused to be apart.
For one fleeting moment, the house was filled with music, a haunting melody of piano and violin, rising, trembling, and fading into eternity... | 1 242 |
| 19 | Schindler's List - John Williams (Piano & Violin Duet)
#Me
#Us | 1 229 |
| 20 | - Wei Wuxian: “Lan Zhan… sometimes I wonder if you truly understand how much I need you.”
- Lan Wangji: “I do. More than words, more than silence, I know.”
- Wei Wuxian: “Then why do you stay, when I’ve given you nothing but trouble?”
- Lan Wangji: “Because you are everything. Without you, nothing matters.”
- Wei Wuxian: “You make it sound so simple… but to me, it feels impossible, like I don’t deserve it.”
- Lan Wangji: “Deserve has no meaning here. Love is not earned. It is given. Mine is yours.”
- Wei Wuxian: “Lan Zhan… if one day the world turns against me again, would you still—”
- Lan Wangji: “Always. Even if it is only you and me left in the world, I will not let go.”
- Wei Wuxian: “…You make my heart ache in ways I never knew were possible.”
- Lan Wangji: “And yet, it belongs to me.”
- Wei Wuxian: “…Yes. It always has.”
#WangXian | 1 560 |
