The puppet doll factory

In a puppet doll factory, they produce endless supplies of marionettes but take no special orders. The marionette's range of movement is unlimited. They have the capacity to go anywhere. However, bound to strings, the circumstances limit the marionettes. They may think they are in control for they do actually have legs. Only, the legs are not what allows them to walk. It is the hands of the pupeteers that do. They control and manipulate every movement.

The marionettes manipulated by the pupeteer,
My rightup favourite theatre!

The fruit of your loins

Here is a piece of an extraordinary speech that lies close to my heart and was held by a very special teacher, friend and supporter; Khashayar Kashefi.

"...For me, it has somehow taken to be a love story and during very few moments I will regret that I started this, my relationship to you.
Sometimes I wake up in the morning, wondering if I was the right one for you... Sometimes I have to shake myself up and understand that you were the right one for me..."

You are the best parent I never had, you are a hero. Without you, I would not even be able to argue for the harmonium in my heart.
I am forever grateful,
Michelle

Hold onto my wings

Pegasus horses are shy, flying horses, who live alone on lonesome mountain peaks and feed from intact grasslands. Only friendly people are lucky enough to find one and if they succeed in taming a Pegasus they will have a very faithful companion for life. They are snow-white or pitch-black horses with significant bird-like wings seated behind their neck.

It is said that Pegasus threw off a horse-rider who tried to use him in order to reach the skies. Pegasus sensed hubris and had the horse-rider fall down to earth while he himself flew to the skies and attained fortune. So what I am trying to say is that symbolically, I am up against a handful of pitch-black horses as well.

Not for cynical people: The Hollies - Pegasus

Dancing by night, dying by day.

Poisonous gardens, lethal and sweet
Choleric fruit, deadly to eat.
Violet nightshades, innocent bloom
Cautiously wait, hungrily loom.
Lemonous petals, dissident play
Dancing by night, dying by day.

The Pristine Red Balloon

Don't give up on Love even when it is wretched from your hands and seems stepped upon by others. Because it will be returned to us one million fold, for Love is love and it's beauties are multifarious to behold.

A pristine music video adaptation of the movie:
The Red Balloon (Le Ballon Rouge, 1956)

On the ship, tied to the mast

My eyes are an ocean in which my gleams are reflected

His eyes to my devotion in which my dreams are protected

I used to think life was a flower, just like the french game 'Effeuiller la marguerite'. It had me convinced that life was divided into superlative antonyms; All or None, Best or Worst and Always and Never. It is a known idiom probability game known as

'He loves me... He loves me not'

that had me entangled into its life philosophy.

Although this was untill I discovered the twist:

'He loves me... He loves me Lots'

Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer

My enemies are defined as beloved friends but with whome I also compete with and therefore at the same time I despise. I portray all my environment and the people in it as loving, beautiful and caring. There is a theory that I lay my own characteristics onto others so that I can beautify and relate to them. Although in accordance to the theory above, this also means that I lay my 'negative' characteristics onto others, which are the ones I compete with. In other words, the people that I compete with reflect something that battles within myself. Consequently I value my 'enemies' very high and care alot about appraisal of my accomplishments.

Oh gravity, what a tragedy

Why does the shadowing burden follow me wherever I go and demonized personifies in the present of evil?
It is only in the arms of love that the bird can fly but in the arms of oppression, the martyr is powerless and a victim of, what seems to be, forces beyond control. The antonym of perfection is the foundation to the barrier. Apparently abandonment is the right word, but I would rather have it be diss-perfection. There it is, I fear being diss-perfect and I sold my soul in an attempt to be perfect. 'I' am what I am required to be but how much of 'me' is left.

Dear entity, allow me to find a solution for retrieving my dynamic delirious state.

Love goes where my rosemary blows

Time passes so quickly, soon going from a sweet 16 (not necessarily so sweet) to what shall be an interesting sweet 17. Often when time flies, it is a sign that life's surprises has kept us busy enough to enable us to escape from the past. Nevertheless life does not have to be defective and to be content is essentially not too bad. The future times to come will involve a whole lot more witnessing of the shear beauty and elegant magnificence of what is quite breathtaking - life!

So cold the wind has blown
felt abyssal to the bone
dwelling on the unknown
with a chromatic heart of stone
At last infringing my own
admitting to my entire throne

Power of the Intellectuals

To be an intellectual is for the better but also for the less. We are superb and penetrate the minds of the 'simple' by observation. Unfortunately, because our surroundings just live we are distinguished from them, meaning we feel like we are not accesary, apart of our environment. We see the obvious and beyond, whereas the simple do not even acknowledge the obvious and worst of all are unaware of it. We see the lucidity of reality with open eyes, while they see clarity of life only because they are oblivious and keep their eyes closed. One could think it would be lovely to call such people incompetent and preposterous, but in fact such behaviour is encouraged by society.
- Purposefully? and who encourages society?

Justified truth of reality and language

It is hard to forget a world
where you felt loved and
experienced things
which could have been true,
- but may not have been.

Creativity, Brilliance and Madness
I have a low level of latent inhibition which means I focus on every sight, sound, and thought that enters my mind and apparently this can lead to madness.
Could this be the reason for the incoherence when describing my mental sets?

In addition the use of words in a coherent matter will not lead us to higher truth about reality, in fact they do not define it at all. Words are solely expressions of ideas but are not real! For example: you can not touch the word 'flower'.
Although words can refer to specific things but cause confusion as well.
Moreover in order to understand words we need to have an experience of the word of some sort.

• Try to explain the colour red to a blind man or, the other way around, the sound of a piano to a man who is deaf?

The truth is that being able to hear a sound or see a colour is not the same as the ability to understand spoken words or percieved images.
So the question, that remains unanswered and keeps appearing is:
What would we be without all our senses seeing as we would still be 'alive'?

To conclude we are victims of a disease created by words: thought. Our thoughts are made up of words, that are divided into fragmented bits and pieces whereas justified reality is undivided. Therefore the complex of problems lies in putting reality back into a whole, using thought.