I do like the side of architecture in which I am able to showcase my imagination, where I am able to shape my dreams in the form of architecture. That side in which you can project things that may not be able to be built, where you get to know the deepest needs of the people in order to design something that they will end up loving. I indeed love that side. The most artistic side of architecture, where ideas take shape.
But that’s not the only side of architecture; there is a more technical architecture that is of course needed so that all those amazing ideas can be built in the real life. An art that architects must master, something that has its own beauty.
Last week I had the chance to visit a warehouse construction; I was able to touch all the materials, to feel them. I had the chance to see in firsthand what I had been studying for some months. It’s actually a great experience to realize that what you have learnt hasn’t been in vain.
Architecture is the thoughtful making of space.Louis Kahn
Space and light and order. Those are the things that men need just as much as they need bread or a place to sleep.
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She, the woman who loved me even before she saw me. She, who took care of me and protected me. The woman who suffered and enjoyed sharing her body with me during nine months. The woman who would give anything so that I would be happy, so that I could have everything that I pursue in this life. She, the woman whose happiness grows when mine does, whose unconditional love is maintained even after our several arguments.
She, that woman, is my mother. Who I love and thank for everything she has given me in this life. She, whom I admire and respect for all those sacrifices she made so I could have a better life. She who has made me the woman I am today. She, my mother. Because, as the Prophet Muhammad said:
Abu Hurayrah (may Allaah be pleased with him) said: “A man came to the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) and said, ‘O Messenger of Allaah, who among the people is most deserving of my good companionship?’ He said, ‘Your mother.’ The man asked, ‘Then who?’ He said, ‘Your mother.’ He asked, then who?’ He said, ‘Your mother.’ He asked, ‘Then who?’ He said, ‘Your father.’”
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After so many days of rain and wind the sun is finally shining in my city. Therefore it was the best time to wear a light white coat, with a sweater because the temperatures are still low. It's Spring and I can't wait for the weather to be warmer in order to wear more light clothes and colours.
Coat: Mango || Mom Jeans: Vintage || Sweater: Easy Wear
I love you like a confession.
When I say this to you,
I am not telling you.
I am admitting a fact,
disclosing an intimate secret
that is not really a secret.
But every time the words
leave my lips, this is the shape
they take: quiet and careful.
Words that do not wish to harm
you, but rather to heal you.
They are words that want to
make you soup on cold days,
hold you close, make you feel safe,
and give you all the time, comfort,
and support that you should ever need.
These words are hands that reach
through phone lines and towers
and satellites and concrete walls
and distracted drivers in sleepy cities,
to put a finger on a shaking lip,
to work out the knots in the back
of your neck after a long, terrible day.
I can feel something quiver
inside me at their utterance,
a strange shiver harping my spine.
Three words become music that I
never learned how to play.
But I play on.
"I love you” - beyond words,
it’s performative speech.
It is “doing” more than “telling,”
an action between nouns,
the most profound verb
to ever grace a living being.
Sometimes, I am so afraid of
those words put together,
of what they really say and the
kind of power they hold.
They and their meaning are as
much of a mystery to me as you are.
Perhaps that is why they fit you
better than on anyone else.
I love you to the point where it hurts
because I keep confessing and
confessing and confessing.
Admitting that I am my strongest
in my weakness, that weakness
makes me weak less and that
vulnerability is a lesson
in slowing down, learning
to appreciate little things.
and mispronounced words,
and each of our own
excruciating reactions to spiders.
I love you from the ground up.
First realistically, then irrationally.
To the point where I want to
keep confessing, over and over again.
Because I know with all of my being
that this is the most absolute truth
I will every tell in my whole life.
Poem by Nav K (www.navk.ca)
Poem by Nav K (www.navk.ca)
It's a rainy Monday morning. It's been raining the whole night, all weekend long too. It's 9:30 a.m. and I'm in my room with my window wide open while I contemplate the rain falling and listen to the Quran (Surah Al-Isra). It calms me down, listening to this words that have a rythm, meaning and feeling of understanding even better than poetry. It heals your heart.
It's Monday morning, and a new week has just started. I am finally done with a one-week flu. My Spring Break (Semana Santa as we call it here in Spain) is starting this Friday but even if it's a really desired break I have many deadlines just after the break.
But to start the week with the right feet I share with you a beautiful quote by Albert Camus that can light up your day.
"In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invinible love. In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile. In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm. I realized, through it all, that In the middle of winter, I finally found that within me there lias an invincible summer."