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πͺ΅ In a quiet corner of imagination, an old pipe rests between weathered fingers β smoke curling like memories.
π΄ Crafted with soul, worn by time, it tells stories without a single word.
ποΈ In the hands of Farid Ghanbari, this simple object becomes something more β a portrait of wisdom, solitude, and presence.
π¨ Every puff is a pause, a reflection, a breath of the past wrapped in silence.
π¨ The old pipe is not just an object β itβs a symbol, sculpted in stillness, held in the heart of art. π₯π€ 0 reply
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