Gulhan
@gulhansa
760 Following
1047 Followers
0 reply
1 recast
38 reactions
0 reply
1 recast
63 reactions
Cappadocia's unique beauty had always been breathtaking, but the scenery that morning was utterly enchanting. In the "Land of Beautiful Horses", she rode her horse deep into the valleys, her eyes captivated by every detail of this magnificent landscape. The fairy chimneys, shaped by centuries of wind and rain, stood like remnants of a fairy tale realm. The white rocks, glistening in the sunlight, created a stunning contrast against the blue sky. In this silent, peaceful land, the sound of her horse's hooves echoed, making her feel as if time had stopped. With each step, she became more entranced by Cappadocia's magic, wishing this enchanted moment would last forever. 0 reply
1 recast
35 reactions
As I stood in the dimly lit museum hall, my eyes fixated on the shadow cast by the statue. The sculpture of a valiant warrior atop a pedestal, his silhouette magnified against the towering wall, evoked a sense of timelessness. The statue, a symbol of heroism and might, seemed to mock the fragile nature of our existence.
In that moment, I pondered the ancient belief that death is the great equalizer, leveling kings and beggars alike. But was it truly so? The figure before me, immortalized in bronze, defied that notion. In life, he had been revered; in death, his legacy endured, casting a long shadow over history.
Yet, the shadow itself reminded me of our transient nature. No matter how grand the monument, how enduring the legacy, all are eventually obscured by the relentless passage of time. In death, we might be equal, but the shadows we cast in life tell a different story. 0 reply
0 recast
108 reactions
0 reply
3 recasts
127 reactions
0 reply
0 recast
50 reactions
0 reply
0 recast
41 reactions
"And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep."
Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
The present. It's supposed to be all we have, right? But how much of it is "really" ours? Time slips away even as we try to grab it. You're here, now, reading this, but your mind might already be halfway into tomorrow's to-do list or stuck in something you said last week.
How wide is the present? Wide enough to hold a fleeting moment, yet so narrow it feels like it vanishes the second you notice it. How deep? As deep as your awareness allows, but good luck holding onto that depth when your phone pings. And how much is ours to keep? Honestly, probably none of it. The present isn't something you can store in a box or pin to a wall. It's just this. It's this right now. And now it's gone. Funny, isn't it? We chase something that doesn't stay still. 0 reply
0 recast
45 reactions
0 reply
0 recast
65 reactions
0 reply
0 recast
109 reactions
0 reply
0 recast
109 reactions
The waves roll in, steady and unhurried, their rhythm whispering secrets I'll never understand but find comforting all the same. This place, quiet, untouched, or maybe just forgotten, feels like it exists outside of time, a sanctuary carved out just for me. Or perhaps for anyone brave enough to sit still long enough to hear it.
I wonder, briefly, if I discovered it or if it's been waiting, patient as the rocks that line the shore. I want to believe it's waiting for something, just as I am. But expectations can be tricky things, can't they? Hope is heavy when tied to the fragile threads of choice, and yet, I keep weaving them.
Here, in this silence, there's no weight but my own thoughts. I breathe them in and let the sea carry them away. I'm learning slowly that patience is its own kind of bravery. Maybe, this time, it will lead to something more. Something worth all the waiting. 1 reply
1 recast
89 reactions
The pebbles under my feet are warm, the sun kissing them all afternoon, and the salty breeze plays with my damp hair. I've just come out of the water, the coolness still clinging to my skin, and I sink into the towel spread beneath the striped umbrella. It's quiet, only the sound of the waves rolling in, steady and rhythmic, like a heartbeat that keeps time for no one but itself.
There's only one chair today. One towel. One person. And for now, that's enough. I'm learning to sit with the silence, to let it wrap around me like the breeze, soft and weightless. There's a strange comfort in this moment, a peace I didn't know I needed, though it comes with a bittersweet ache. I tell myself it's okay. That being alone doesn't mean being lonely, not always.
Still, I can't help but glance at the empty space beside me, imagining another chair, another presence. Maybe it'll come. Maybe it won't. The hope flickers, dimmer than before, but not yet gone. The sea stretches out endlessly, and somewhere out there, maybe… 0 reply
2 recasts
120 reactions
I set up the chairs today, two of them, side by side, right at the water's edge. The sea is calm, almost as if it's waiting too. I couldn't help but think of you while I placed them there, not too far apart, not too close either. Just enough space for us to sit comfortably, to share the view and maybe, one day, a quiet laugh.
You're not here yet, but it felt right to prepare anyway, like making room for the future before it fully arrives. I told myself it's for the symmetry, for the neatness of it all. But really it's for you. So when you do come, it'll feel like you've always had a place here, next to me.
The waves gently lap at the legs of the chairs, as if they're whispering secrets of all the days yet to come. And in this waiting, there's a strange kind of peace. Because even though you're not here now, I know one day, we'll sit together and let the sea write its stories around us. 0 reply
1 recast
91 reactions
The sun's warmth is soft now, melting into the waves with a golden shimmer, and here we sit, the world feeling like it's paused just for us. Two chairs, draped with towels still damp from the sea, and between them, our e-readers resting quietly on the smooth pebbles. There's something sacred about this silence, not the absence of sound, but the fullness of it. The sea whispers, the breeze plays with the edges of the towels, and for a moment, the weight of the world feels light.
I glance over at you and can't help but smile. We don't need words right now, the rhythm of the waves speaks enough for both of us. There's peace in knowing you're here, close enough to reach out, but far enough to let the sea carry away the noise of everything else.
This is what freedom feels like, simple, quiet, perfect. And as the sun sinks lower, I realize it's not just this moment. It's what it leaves behind, the soft, lasting imprint on our hearts. This stillness will echo in us long after we've packed up and walked away fro… 0 reply
0 recast
72 reactions
I must not fear. The words echo like a pulse, steady and unrelenting, as I stand at the edge of the unknown. The dark stretches before me, vast and silent, a void waiting to swallow courage whole. My heart pounds, a traitor's rhythm, but I know I cannot retreat.
Fear is the mind-killer, I remind myself. It whispers of failure, of the thousand ways I could fall, but I refuse to listen. Fear is the little-death, the slow unraveling of resolve. I let it rise, let it wash over me like a storm. I do not flinch.
I will face my fear. I feel its weight, its cold breath curling around me, but I do not flee. I will permit it to pass through me, hollow and futile. My breath steadies. My pulse quiets. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
There is nothing.
The fear dissolves, leaving only the echo of its futility. Only I remain. Stronger, sharper, unbroken. Fear is not the enemy, only the barrier. And I am free. 0 reply
0 recast
84 reactions
I stood before it, stone, yet alive. How could marble weep, and how could I not? The Pietà, her silent sorrow, her eternal grief, carved not just into the marble but into my very soul. I was a witness to a mother's heartbreak, a love so vast it seemed to transcend the cold touch of death.
In her arms lay the weight of the world, her son, broken, lifeless, and yet held with the tenderness of a lullaby. The folds of her robe, the softness of her touch, the lines of her face, all spoke of a pain too deep for words. And in that moment, I felt it, too. Not as a distant observer, but as one who knows the ache of loss, the yearning to hold what is gone.
She is every mother who has cradled a lost child, every human who has borne the unbearable. And I, standing there, breath caught, heart undone, became a part of her grief, her love, her unending vigil. Tears came, unbidden, for the beauty and the sorrow that had no voice but spoke so clearly.
The Pietà is not just stone. It is the very essence of human fra… 0 reply
4 recasts
215 reactions
Once upon a lazy morning, the mighty calico queen stretched her paws to the heavens, fresh from her royal nap. Limbs flailing, she looked like a tiny, mismatched patchwork of sunshine and midnight, trying to grab the last remnants of a dream. But don't let those sleepy eyes fool you, swas already plotting world domination… or maybe just the conquest of the treat jar.
Her human watched, amused, as she wiggled and yawned dramatically, paw pads spread wide like she was auditioning for the role of "Most Adorable Tyrant." The curtain swayed gently, letting in a ray of light that caught the orange in her fur, highlighting her as if the universe itself acknowledged her magnificence.
With one final stretch, she rolled over, blinking slowly. The message was clear: "I have graced you with my presence, and yet, you stand there empty-handed. Where's my snack?" Thus began another day in the reign of the calico queen, benevolent in her demands, generous in her cuteness.
Miss you, my calico queen ❤️ 0 reply
0 recast
24 reactions
0 reply
1 recast
24 reactions
0 reply
1 recast
107 reactions