I Met A Trump Troglodyte Today!

As of yet I have not embarked on any adventures over to the States and I have no intention of heading out that way in the near future either. England is a geographic trinket box filled with plenteous history, fascinating landmarks and outstanding spreads of natural beauty that for any wielder of the storytelling pen one lifetime will only see a speck of it laid in documentary language. I also love England because of the profound contribution it has made in paving delightful opportunities for my development as a person, teacher and artist. These wings of self- empowerment that I wear today, as dazzling in colour as the feathers of a peacock in its prime and whose quills are poised to vocalise the contours of my imagination, must be accredited rightfully as being the fruits of the many teachers, educational institutions, workplace experiences and, notwithstanding, the overall social and cultural milieu in which I have had the privilege to grow up in.

What many people may not know is that my esteem and admiration for England has never consigned to oblivion my concerns for, and connection to, my Motherland, Bangladesh. I used to sit next to Amma’s legs, pressing her feet whilst she would tell me tales as sweet as mangoes, her voice somehow morphing itself to a low and emphatic tone – a storyteller’s voice – and I would wish always that the world outside could forget us so that Amma could carry on reciting precious memories of the land where I was born, and in which I took my first breath. I must someday archive all those stories in a proper book and then You, too, will laugh with warm tears rolling down the side of Your face as You hear of how her grandparents were so deeply in love with each other, or the time when Amma’s ditzy granny thought a scrap piece of paper was an artwork that she then stuck on the wall of the hut only to be told by the family later at night that it was an old Pakistani note! Great-Granny was very embarrassed by the blunder but apparently it aroused Great-Grandpa to want to kiss her cheek even harder for her endearing silliness! The entire village knew that this Romeo and Juliet pair were inseparable despite the laughable antics they managed to find themselves in! They never grew up and that certainly does ring a bell, does it not? Giggle!

Amma’s own father was a respected teacher and I have had the great pleasure of meeting the man himself, and I guarantee You that one can never quite forget this figure of incredible short vertical dimensions – the hereditary 158cm successfully passed down of course – because I swear he was born with a loudspeaker in his throat! When he addresses You it feels as if he is speaking out his lungs to the world! In his presence, my spine takes a mind of its own, straightening up like a metric ruler as soon as he marches into the room. He simply happens to be a character of hilarious military potential but loaded with a heart as soft as a ripe peach! I am particularly partial to his sheepish white beard, I think it makes him terribly handsome! Oooo la laaaaa!

And what to tell You of those dark days when Amma and Abba’s family barely eked out an existence, when freedom was plundered and the clouds of inexorable fear loomed over everyone and everything, no one ever knowing for sure whether the sunrise would be the last that they would see. These were the harsh and bleak days of the civil war and even now when Amma reminisces of that time of frightful darkness and of friends lost forever I could sense the heavy stone lodged in her throat. Shadows of the past scar and leave blisters on the people that were there to witness them, and it must therefore be a testament to my Amma’s powerful and natural proclivity for storytelling that is responsible for why after hearing the sufferings of my Motherland I can always feel the malice of a thick chain tied to a metal ball and wrapped around my ankles. No country in the world deserves to be incinerated through the jaws of a holocaust. Never.

Now You can understand why when my Abba received his ‘boy voucher’ to that little crumb of an island floating in the Atlantic Ocean our family were overjoyed to the skies. England was the light.

But, I never once forgot my Motherland, and as long as I am I shall never let those priceless memories handed down to me by my parents come to any harm or be at risk of eradication. For those of You who may write me off as an idealistic patriot I will also concede that countries, like personalities, are not perfect, they are pitted with stifling inconsistencies and gaping holes that need to be urgently resolved. Every country is a work in progress, some better than others, but on the whole I believe there are good people out there in every one of them who dreams for a better and bright and fair future for their Motherland.

So, where am I going with this post?

As I said earlier, I have never embarked on a trip to the States and have no immediate wish to do so. Yet, many of my well-travelled friends have shared with me the most harrowing anecdotes chronicling the sheer ignorance they have observed in the American mindset, to the extent that one begins to wonder whether they are taught at all in school of the other countries and cultural universes that exist beyond their shores! Now, I am in the habit of always giving people the benefit of the doubt and never ever do I employ banal markers like country of origin to prejudge a person’s character or integrity. That is not how I work! I have met some cheery and amiable folk from over the pond, and I also have a few friends from that part of the world –  precisely reasons why I do not jump the gun and generalise an entire nation as a bandwagon of no-brainers!

Unfortunately, today my entire crew at the shop in which I work were left feeling more grossly offended than I ought to have been after the experience I had with a person whom I could only describe as a butler to that that raspberry-faced Mr Trump!

Two Americans asked for my assistance in choosing gifts. One was a fashionable young lady who I got along with very well, and the other was a mature business man who seemed like he was out of steam for ideas on what to buy his wife who, I understand, had evidently messaged him on his smarty pants phone. All went pleasantly smooth and they were happy with my suggestions. I led them to the till point and the lady thanked me effusively and with a shining smile exclaimed, “Thank you very much and I won’t forget you, I mean that! Your accent is incredibly beautiful…

I was naturally moved by her kind words and replied, “Bless you! That is very sweet of you!

And then, alas, descended down the rip-roaring catastrophe of one of the most ugliest case of political incorrectness and blind ignorance that I have ever been subjected to, and when he said it the words of my well-travelled friends flooded my ear canals like a tsunami of a vindication that I never wished to have received. I provide you with the exact transcript of what ensued which was achievable only by my use of initiative to jot the details down straight after the incident. I still retain an open-minded stance and am fully committed to avoid myself being enslaved by prejudicial thinking. It is not who I am. I am only sharing this with You as a portrayal of distressing evidence that reinforces my belief that the so-called civilised West has still a lot to learn.

MAN: So, where are you from? [He scrutinises my face]

ME: I have lived in Winchester all my life. [I am wrapping his goods up whilst hoping in my mind that the unseen wife will be appeased by my choices]

[There is an eerie pause and I take it as a cue to expand upon my initial answer.]

ME: I was born in Bangladesh.

[The man seems to be perplexed and I assume that perhaps he does not know of my Motherland.]

ME: It is a country adjacent to India.

MAN: East Pakistan! Pakistan, India and Bangladesh were one country. [He seems chuffed at his knowledge]

ME: Under the British Empire, yes.

MAN: Bangladesh… that’s a POOR country, right?

[I was stumped by the rude directness of his question but maintained composure.]

ME: It is a developing nation.

[It was now that I knew well and truly that he was going to express a remark of raw ignorance, one too irresistible for him to keep tucked away under his belt!]

MAN: Tell me, Bangladesh is a poor country, so why is it that YOU don’t sound like a POOR person?

I could not believe my ears!

The downright primitive simplicity of his thoughts!

The lady ashamedly averted making contact with my eyes, looking down instead at the counter. She did not want to stand before me one moment longer because she wished to release me from the attentions of this utterly backward specimen of an ignorant troglodyte! I did not say anything in response and instead smiled proudly at him as if to say that it was vital that he invest in a world map and study it diligently and if he does so he shall come to learn that our world is an assortment of smaller worlds, each one a worthy treasury filled to the skies with rich stories that deserve nothing better than to be shared…  ♥♥♥

Signs: 10 Degrees By 10 Degrees

“… as if to say that it was vital that he invest in a world map and study it diligently and if he does so he shall come to learn that our world is an assortment of smaller worlds, each one a worthy treasury filled to the skies with rich stories that deserve nothing better than to be shared…

 

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2016/14

 

Advertisements

She’s Off To Paddington’s London!

I cannot wait for the summer holidays when I shall have more spare time on my hands to compose new stories and poems for You. I am as busy as a bumblebee on skates at the moment, although I confess it could only be my special knowledge of Your love for my eccentric words that brings me here to the virtual world, however briefly, just so that I can have pleasure of making You smile, again and again and again. I know when you smile, it feels like having two hearts thud behind the bastion of my chest… ♥ 

Let’s go! Let’s go!” Alright, alright I better fill You in
For why this munchkin bears a marmalade grin
She’s off to see Grandma in London – the city that’s second home to Darkest Peru
Summer holidays have begun for this little sprite, a three foot kangaroo
Tonight travelling on the Underground Tube, not a ship – c’mon, use your wit!
I hope she won’t have to sit next to a snotty teen with one smelly armpit!
Oh I do envy my sweet pixie for heading to stations on which brown paws have walked
Where a red hat has bobbed, flipped down escalators hence news that’s still talked!
I have earnestly asked her that should she see him, my stowaway bear, do not mockingly laugh
Simply tell him we’ll meet someday and kindly ask him for an autograph…! ♥♥♥

She's Off To Paddington's London!

She’s off to see Grandma in London – the city that’s second home to Darkest Peru…

Photography & Poem: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Summer Garden Party | Winchester | UK 2015/16

The Song Of The Berries By My Home

A Very Merry Berry Fabric Of Pace-I’m Continuum: An Afterword!

I am indulging in a brief pit-stop home and thus thought it timely that I could make a decisive contribution in the cure to reverse that horrid influenza of boredom, listlessness and enervation of hope that appears to have clasped onto Your normal cheery self. But before I commence any further on this note I am compelled to speak of the terrible news of the tragic plane crash that occurred in the Sinai desert and that was burnt into cinders, innocence tossed into deathly fires. Word reached of it to my ears yesterday and I prayed to my Creator last night for the souls of the departed and for the families who must now live with the irreplaceable loss of their most cherished ones.

In the heart of the Middle Lands, Mount Sinai, as according to biblical accounts, had once violently come down upon it thunderous lightning, the plummet of terrifying fires and the thickest and blackest and darkest of smoke and mist. Yet is it not so that the intensity of power evoked and embedded in these words of mine pale in mindless insignificance to the loss of lives that we hear of today?

It is said that Moses had once upon a time returned from that desert mountain, holding in his arms with renewed determination the tablets – medicine for the Spirit – on which carved were WORDS destined to help the people to transform into better and more wholesome versions of themselves. To those of the modern sensibility, consider its idealised effect tantamount to a WINDOWS UPDATE, A WHOLE NEW WORLD!

When my WORDS are imitated or copied out of vanity or to satisfy egocentric purposes then you risk deviating from your true Destiny. It is then that your ‘blue monkeys’ become the proponents of flammable rage, your ‘blue mountains’ become as graves, your ‘Light’ the tongue of explosions, in effect you toss your own precious self-integrity into the fire. To those who know who they are, I pray you shall forge your own path.

Today, I, Your humble seamstress and Enantiodromia of the Pen, wish to dispel this air of shadows and mist clinging like the creepy and clinging cobwebs of Halloween and to this end I wished with all my Soul for Destiny to display a little show of Good Magic, something that would make You smile tremendously because it re-affirmed the WORDS of a New Hope that this 5ft 1 Red Leader of Yours has always maintained. WATCH this viral but curative video from the WRAP website of how, on a day marred by tragedy and the macabre darkness of Halloween, I sent a whiff of the PERFUME OF THE DESERT, a RED FABRIC OF PACE-I’M CONTINUUM, that goes a little faster than a SNAIL I do care to admit, scooting through the streets of a noisy city of a NAMELESS SEDUCTIVE POPULACE where I do believe a certain Magic Box is forever waiting for me… :)) :)) :))

Oh my, You are on Your knobbly knees, pleading to me as to how I accomplished such an audacious feat? As per the original poem, the blaze of the secret would require You to make an once-in-a-lifetime adventure to my Home… ♥

Please do look after one another. I shall return soon with a sackful of new stories blessed with the warmest spices of the hearth and the deepest laughter moonlit from the chambers of the good heart.

Eternally Yours,
Mazzy xxx

LINK TO A-MAZ-ING VIDEO: http://www.thewrap.com/aladdin-magic-carpet-ride-nyc-stunt-jesse-wellens-casey-neistat/

Black-green forest mesh of spikes, dark matter of holly
It peeked through thick bars, a desire to show my Vision
That it was not a creature of solemn, crepuscular design

Red.
Red defiant!
Bright, ten thousand waxed orbs of dominance
Heartbeat threads of a Persian carpet, rare and enchanted
Infinity surely tossed, coiled and exhausted within these nameless seductive populace
And I thought hard about the decency of taste that must hide
Inside that explosion of winter’s foetal expression

Someday I shall bring my Love here, before this alter of red balloons
To show him the blaze of the secret, how Real Poetry works… :))

“Someday I shall bring my Love here, before this alter of red balloons
To show him the blaze of the secret, how Real Poetry works…”

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015  

The Leisurely Chronicles of Two Ladies, High Tea And Other Childish Miscellany At Lainston House!

My Dearest & Treasured Reader,

In jubilant celebration of what has been one of the most memorably exciting summer holidays for me I am keen to present to You the spectacularly amusing but no less touching photo-diary of my fantabulous girly getaway with one of my closest and dearest friends, Samka! Nestled in picturesque rolling green acres of English countryside, where lime trees, oaks, elms and beeches lushly abound, a stately 17th Century manor house – the sort Austen, Bronte and even Sir Arthur Conan Doyle would gladly make accommodation for a weekend of quality writing, away from those prying eyes of the madcap city – two girls in their middle age decidedly made it their bespoke sanctuary!

A breath-taking labyrinthine castle steeped in aristocratic aesthetics, the luxurious gardens and high classical columns grandly erected on the outside of the building were enough to impress on us that we were about to be thoroughly pampered and quite justifiably so, it was about high time that our feet indulged in a restful break from the countless adventures the both of us had accrued over the summer!

Each room felt that it had been authenticated by the distinguishable air of a royal presence. Paintings and wall murals gilded in aged gold, armchairs made of the finest upholstery, and walls plastered in the most attractive of decorative designs inspired from the botanica of the natural world besieged our breaths. Oh and do not get me started on the business of the etiquette of serving tea!! Dapper waiters in pristine white shirts and black waistcoats, glided across the room with the most adorable of smiley faces, bending down to take our orders and, my goodness me, I cannot tell You precisely the number of times we sent the chaps to fetch us tea! It would be madness to declare a number for I fear You may never want to read my works again! And when the high tea arrived, in a decorous arrangement of a silver teapot and a merry-go-round of fine bone china cups, saucers and milk jugs, I was literally over the moon to discover that my tea had come to me in loose leaf form – a far more superior incarnation when the matter of taste is concerned! As the seductive fumes of Lapsang Souchang tea languidly rose from our cups, gunpowder and smoky and golden, Samka and I sat back in our comfortable armchairs in the the palatial lounge room and let out deep long sighs in unison! Ah, what joy it is when after the turbulence of activity, rest finally comes, in soothing, lulling waves…

ENOUGH OF THE LADYSHIP ACT! We did not rest, how could we do so when I had my electronic steed at my heels!? GIGGLE, GIGGLE! After guzzling down several doses of the jolly brew, we jumped up and nearly scared the circle of businessmen out of their wits who were stationed at the back of the room! My research had equipped me with the privileged knowledge that the building had oodles of rooms to explore and since the day outside was as grim as the grim reaper’s cloak, the bucketing of downpours never wanting to stop, I suggested to Samka that we venture into all the rooms and hidden corners and harness the different qualities and textures of ambient light and that she be my model! Samka never shies away from my lens, she is well-resourced with a natural flair for wanting to strut her beautiful face whenever the orders are despatched from me! How immensely convenient that I should have such a pliable friend in my circle! Giggle, giggle!

In my instance, Photography and the art of Visual Storytelling are not chores or the exacting of a business deal, it is a passion that has made acquaintance with my life pulse and for which there is no rest. I sincerely pray that as You scroll through the Lainston House photo-diary You, too, will be satisfactorily appeased when I say that, despite what appearances may suggest as one sees me rushing about with my equipment at a time when leisure and rest is prescribed and expected of, to click away like a Mad Hatter is a most pleasurable habit that serves to renew my spirits time and time again.

As is my modus operandi, I request that You have as Your accomplice the finest brew of tea at Your side before proceeding to view my gallery of visual treats! A caption as short as me is provided under each image and should Your eyes be of a lazy constitution then may I suggest that You click on the picture of interest for a size tantamount to a blue whale’s bottom! Giggle, giggle!

I raise my teacup in salutary style to You, my most beloved Reader, for though You remain hidden to my mortal eyes the sustenance of Your Faith and Love in my Vision is the reason why I am blessed to wake up to not one but two sets of dawns every morning… :)) :)) :))


You know I am eternally Yours,

Mazzy xxx

Samka Librarian

“I dare say, have You ever laid eyes on a more beautiful librarian in Your life?! I was tempted to pull the spines of each book forward because I fancied that by doing so one of them would activate a hidden mechanism and a secret door would slide open…”

 

Samka Bar

“Samka stylishly walked across the lounge towards the warmly lit bar and effortlessly perched herself on the high stool, casually letting her eyes glide around the room as if she owned the entire place! I would have required an abseiling crew to reach the summit of those stools so I made peace with my fate and continued to click away from afar…!”

   

Samka's Man

“Samka has just spotted her knight in shining armour galloping towards the window, a Mr Gerard Butler I am told! What remarkable similarity in her frame to that of the sentinel watchers of the meerkat community…!”

Samka Problem-Solving

“Why is a raven like a writing desk? A trademark addiction, I cannot help but to deploy this wriggling riddle onto my loved ones and, as You can gather quite clearly, Samka’s loss of an answer caused her to resign to chewing on her spectacles…!”

Samka Stomper

“We were stomping up and down the stairs with the tread pressure of an angry rhino! In a bid to hide from the Manager we lay low for a bit which also proffered us valuable time to have out breaths return to normal…!”

Samka's Shoes

“Samka considers a potential upgrade! You can never go wrong with a sturdy pair of British Wellingtons…!”

Samka's Smartphone

“Unlike my unconventional abstinence from the noisy world of the Smartphone, Samka relishes hers like it was her own baby! Her we can see her checking us in on Facebook which I always find to be the most strangest thing one can ever do! I asked her with cheeky retort whether Facebook requires us to check out as well and does it overcharge if we were to stay a little longer…?!”

Samka's Light

“I was obviously too preoccupied with fiddling with the settings on my camera because the next time I looked up, to my astonishment, my friend was bathed in the most exquisite afternoon light that had at last poured itself free out of the entanglements of rain and leaden clouds…”

Samka & Chess

“Samka was fierce in her insistence that she ought to revise my understanding of how that game of games, Chess, is truly played! I gulped hard and long, suddenly her shoes had become as imposing and domineering as the gaze of the blackest raven…”

Pillars Of Friendship

“The Pillars of Friendship, my claims may not be of modest proportions and apologies if they taste of flamboyant grandiosity but, as she reached her arm round to hug the pillar, its warm and supportive effect was felt in my own heart…”

Samka At It Again!

“Oh my dearest Samka, abandon thy efforts to solve the riddle on ravens and writing desks and take stock of that Gerard Butler coming at you from across the lawn…!”

Samka's Collars

“Samka, I can explain a great many things but on the pressing issue of why your anorak was born of short collars, I must step down in defeat and beg that you seek an alternative counsel to help rid you of your burning puzzlement…!”

Beauty In Unexpected Places

“It was a feast for my senses to know that irrespective of the mundane or dull or uninspiring corners of the estate, in concerted effort my friend and the ambient light preyed upon such atmospheres and in their place could instil a renewed focal point of interest such as to give rise to the impression that in an old place a new tale was about to be told…!”

Samka's Steed

“You are well acclimatized to the fact that I fancy the smoking dragon of the tracks – steam trains to be precise – but my Samka is bred with the more popular passion for ‘boxes with circles’! I simply adore the pride she wears on her face and body for her moving polygonal baby, it would be a gross injustice if I had foregone this opportunity to document this relationship on camera. Do not ask me where my head came up to when I sat in the front passenger seat, I do believe Samka at one point grab held my head thinking it was the gear stick…!”


Photography & Words:  © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Sparsholt | Hampshire | UK 2015

Thomas Has Arrived! My Number One Fan!

Only a matter of hours left before the clock strikes twelve midnight and the wacky, super jolly birthday celebrations take on full swing at my household so it is elegantly justified that I should post for You tonight a snazzy photograph of my Number One Fan pulling up in front of my house in the most stylish attire a man could ever don: A dapper Krishna blue suit, rose red trimmings, finished off with an impeccable pair of trousers affectionately reminiscent of the green rice paddies of my Homeland! Oh Thomas, my heart, You are without reservation one spectacularly flawless engine when it comes to wooing a tomboy off her feet! Giggle, giggle! :))

EPILOGUE:  Ah, yes, of course, let me explain the nature of the ‘Please Note’ Sign. I pinned it to the gates with a Message for the guests. What do You suppose I might have written on it? We play this game in class to build up our faculty of imagination. Let us see what suggestions You come up with – I request that One refrains from the submission of rude answers, please, otherwise You shall forfeit an irreversible flattening treatment which will involve submerging Your fragile body under the Fat Controller’s mammoth-sized bottom! Ouchy, wouchy!

MY DESTINY’S LINK: 15th August – 15th August…  :))

homas Has Arrived! My Number One Fan!

“… A dapper Krishna blue suit, rose red trimmings, finished off with an impeccable pair of trousers affectionately reminiscent of the green rice paddies of my Homeland…”

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Summer Reunions | Ropley Station | UK 2015

TOMBOY ALERT! 92212 British Railways Standard Class 9F

BEWARE, this article may sound incredibly boring to those whose minds are disinclined to gear their attention towards reading accounts of exuberant praises of one of the finest examples of British industrial age engineering! For nerds and tomboys, You are in for a veritable treat! Giggle, giggle!

Designed for British Railways by Mr Riddles in the 1950s, this powerful locomotive was initially intended to travel at fast speeds – 35mph (!) – operating freight trains and after a few modifications were applied by Mr Riddles, a more efficient relationship between fuel consumption and load distribution was achieved. This steamer has the mighty lady power to carry 900 tons at any one time, although just before the Fat Controller stomps aboard she is known to let out a boom of smoke to remind him that he ought to go on a calorie-controlled diet! Hehehehe!!!!

Ladies, Gentlemen and Children, I am enormously excited to present to You the sublime supernova of steel, the ineffably cool, the ethereally seductive, the transcendent cloud-puffer, the First Lady of the Tracks, The 92212 Class 9F!

EPILOGUE:  I would only ever marry a man who was brave enough to engage with me in a discussion on the subject of steam locomotives! Choo-choo, could it be You…? :))

LINK: I shall leave it in Your good telepathic intelligence to decipher which trains would LINK You to my Home… :))

92212 - British Railways Standard Class 9F

“… This steamer has the mighty lady power to carry 900 tons at any one time, although just before the Fat Controller stomps aboard she is known to let out a boom of smoke to remind him that he ought to go on a calorie-controlled diet…”

 

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Summer Reunions | Alresford – Alton | UK 2015

Only Those Who Believe In Magic Shall See It

Rimmed with steel undulating bars, two silver crescent seats wedged on either side with textured flooring that might have very well been filched from an unsuspecting industrial site, my Japanese mate’s highly energetic munchkin son, Alex, showcases his talent for impeccable immunity against dizziness brought on by excessive spins on the merry-go-round! Set against the tranquil setting of a gurgling river and sleepy branches of dangling willow trees, Alex’s relentless self-testing of how many revolutions he could achieve in a minute must have caused many a rock, leaf and fish to be forced into praying to the gods for the power to be personified so that they too could have a try on this exquisite piece of apparatus that cleverly combined movement without moving anywhere!

Having established the meritorious properties of this classical artefact of the universe of the playground, let us now move onto the real reason for my choosing to share this photograph with You. The Poster. Yes, the object held up by Alex! What is your opinion on its content? I should be most grateful if You could let me know, one way or another – and I am sure You will find a way! Oh, so sorry, say that again, I didn’t quite catch You? What Poster, You ask? Please forgive me, I ought to have briefed You that this is no ordinary Poster that You may find on the street billboards of Your city because, unlike the commercially-orientated think tank that would have been responsible for the design of such media, Alex’s Poster is a mix of Magical ingredients that You would not hear word of in the competitive halls of corporate organisations.

If You cannot see it, You do not believe in it.
If You believe in it, You shall see it.
And I believe that You do believe in it…  :))

EPILOGUE: Only just released is a poster of the fervently awaited new film by the King of Indian Cinema, Shah Rukh Khan, entitled ‘The Fan’ to be released on 15/4/16. A Tea-ser Poster that will whet the imaginations and drive enquiring questions at high-octane speed, how many similarities of context can You spot between the photograph of Alex that I took months before and the Victorious chap in the film poster? Ah, dismiss thou talk of coincidences, Magic simply walks with me… :))

LINK:   http://indianexpress.com/article/entertainment/bollywood/shah-rukh-khans-fan-has-finally-arrived-first-poster-revealed/

 

Only Those Who Believe Shall See It

“… let us on now move onto the real reason for my choosing to share this photograph with You. The Poster. Yes, the object held up by Alex! What is your opinion on its content…?”

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester – Tokyo | 2015

“The Force Is Strong In Your Love Story”, Explains Our James Bond

Christmas Month Puzzle Box 6: On The Matter Of The Pen That Is My Sword!

This is to be an immaculate piece of timely adjunction to a post that I had composed previously, right before the start of the summer holidays to be precise. I have chosen to include it in my Christmas Month Puzzle Box series in light of the recent spot of funniness that has been going over the scholastic matter of bad spelling! Ahem, ahem and plenty of giggle, giggle!

Destiny is fully committed to entertaining my words with serious consideration, and more often than not, soon after taking form on paper or screen it becomes translated onto the stage of the real world. The pen is my sword, but what would You say if I were to purposefully loosen the strings on my own principles? Wink, wink!

With stellar sophistication, WATCH how I tweet hilarious errors into Mr SOLO’s RIGHT ear, encouraging him to refer to the film’s hitherto unseen scenes in the language of olden Arthurian English where a Lightsaber duel becomes a “sword fight” – or might he be taking after my own heart to describe a battle of sword-like pens, a war of intellectual proportions? Giggle, giggle!

As for the ‘Kilo’ blunder, Mr Solo fell for that spelling faux pas with gliding ease. In olden English the expression, “dropped like a lead balloon” is a phrase that means literally or figuratively that something will not fly. That it will drop like a rock as the apple had once done so to poor old Newton’s head! Sorry old chap! Since I have been ranting on about the lightness of balloons, this phrase naturally trickled into the wrinkly ear of the pilot of Millennium Falcon when I came to the part of letting him know of what I intend to do with the bad guys! Giggle, giggle! Thus, instead of typing ‘Kylo’, Mr Solo purposefully stamped our collective intentions for the fate of that nastily masked Mr Ren! A spelling error no doubt, but it lends solidarity and weight to our cause… ♥♥♥   

Bad spelling is not necessarily a bad trait, in the right context it could win me over and, with uncontrollable blush, I confess that would be a nice way to meet the sweetest sort of “trouble” for the first time in my life!

Do enjoy reading all this in conjunction with the older post below and I am absolutely certain in my mind that You shall be left gasping for breath, wishing that You could relive every moment as like this, one in which You could take delight in witnessing pieces of a jigsaw fit together to reveal – no – to unveil the beauty and sophistication of what was previously withheld from Your craving eyes… ♥♥♥

I LAVA to AMAZE You!
Mazzy Rey xxx

LINK TO SOLO’S NON-SOLO SPELLING BLUNDERS: http://i100.independent.co.uk/article/did-this-harrison-ford-tweet-accidentally-reveal-a-massive-star-wars-spoiler–WJYDixlw9x?utm_source=indy&utm_medium=top5&utm_campaign=i100   
*********************************************************

“The Force is strong in your Love Story”, explains our James Bond
A Special Ed student of mine, behold the magic of his wand!
On this final day of college, James painted in homage to my passion
For pigments of rose-red and affections for vehicles out of fashion!
Not a Lamb-orghini GT, nor a conventional oaf of a Mercedes-Benz
I’m the kinda girl who scoots on a double-decker bus with my fountain pen and lens!
A weakling and a wimp my humble bus may look to the world beyond
But one man does not think so, the man who lives across the pond
Fast cars and muscles are illusions that last for a breath of a day
Strong on the outside it gleams but as fragile as papier-mâché
So, look again at my red bus, modelled by our own Bond with a good cause
You’ll see my face in numbers, words and in the Force of Star Wars
And such Force walks with me because I know that I am loved by someone unable to correspond
We’re two weak particles bound by the strongest iconic-ionic bond…


BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS!!! 
The New Horizons mission has just revealed that my Love has been discovered sitting on Char-On and he is feeling rather depressed which is mostly due to the fact that he thinks he is a goat on a mountain! English was never his strong point! He is actually a Mountain in a Moat… :))

LINK: http://www.theverge.com/2015/7/16/8979745/charon-surface-photo-pluto-flyby-nasa-new-horizons

“The Force Is Strong In Your Love Story”, Explains Our James Bond

“… So, look again at my red bus, modelled by our own Bond with a good cause
You’ll see my face in numbers, words and in the Force of Star Wars…”

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

Trekking With Reina: Dreaming Of A Room Of Joy

Nothing spells tedium, boredom and weariness more effectively than a pitifully morose brick wall of grey stones! Surely the earthly cousins of ominous clouds of grey that the British are famous for having rants with and who must forever tolerate, our weather moods are as temperamentally unstable as a balloon whose mouth has been untied and let loose! Giggle, giggle! The comic value put aside, English castles are magnificent to look at when you step back, and even richer are the saucy and sinister tales that secretly live within them, etched across time and more than happy to be of service in feeding the insatiable appetite of the curious mind who seeks them out.

If my descriptions of the merits of a grey tin-toned wall leave much to be desired in this world then, dear readers, why on earth should my fellow trekker mate, Reina, wear such a naughty smile on her face? What has captured her attention with such ferocious grip that the dastardly grey beast of a wall is no longer able to exert its tiring force on her? I should like to think that she has spotted another wall elsewhere that is doused in all the colours of the rainbow, a paradise of Technicolor supremacy, in a nutshell, a Room of Joy! If her thoughts have indeed meandered to a place far removed from the backdrop on which she stands in, then it explains everything rather perfectly!

Trekking With Reina: Old Castle Walls & Meandering Thoughts

“… I should like to think that she has spotted another wall elsewhere that is doused in all the colours of the rainbow, a paradise of Technicolor supremacy, in a nutshell, a Room of Joy…”

The final photograph to finish this short photo-diary of my summer re-union with Reina is quite the marvel of Quantum Entanglement – I do apologise to those who haven’t a clue in the world what this hefty jargon refers to! Let us just say that given the strange mechanics of this Universe, it is certain that Reina’s choice of book to read on the flight back home WILL resonate with the words or pictures that you may have posted today in the virtual world. Both ardent bibliophiles, Reina had me search a bookshop for a book that had been recommended to her concerning a story of two individuals separated by time and space, yet brought together by the magical workings of Quantum Mechanics! Sound familiar? Giggle, giggle! ‘A Tail – sorry – Tale For The Time Being’ by Ozeki was purchased on English soil, read on a plane, and presumably, the last page shall be turned at Reina’s house in Tokyo, Japan. Books conjure our imaginations to travel but I bet the thought never occurred to you that they too can do a spiffing job at being the best travelling companions one could ever wish for – minus the red-tape of passports and visas, wow, even better!

Ahem ahem, should you wish to lookup more information about Reina’s book which I know you WILL – the circular curtain of the red sun on the front cover already seems to be peeling off thanks to your invasive gaze – then you MUST do so from a Room of Joy. Link provided below. Happy reading, my beloved Follower… :))

Type or Click: https://roomofjoy.wordpress.com/2013/08/27/a-tale-for-the-time-being/

Trekking With Reina: A Book For The Journey Back

“… Books conjure our imaginations to travel but I bet the thought never occurred to you that they too can do a spiffing job at being the best travelling companions one could ever wish for…”

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories |Summer Reunion Series | Southern Hampshire | UK 2015

 

Trekking With Reina: A Repartee With Flowers

The day I chose to pick up my magic box, Lumiere, a modest teensy-weensy camera who loves to indulge in snuggling quietly inside my backpack, was the day I had made a quiet oath to myself. As a Visual Storyteller I would make every effort to archive and celebrate the stories of others – of people, places, objects and times. It is fundamentally a liberating experience to move beyond the preoccupations of oneself although, by adopting the philosophies of a storyteller I discovered, if anything, that my soul had expanded, inflated beyond the boundaries of my own flesh. To tell a story is to grow outwards, branches of a tree leaping off the page of the cagey atmosphere itself.

The photograph I present to you today is a real charmer, for it elegantly encapsulates Reina’s contemplative nature as well as our mutual reverence for the melodies of scents bestowed by the gorgeous floral palette of our beautiful world. I am not physically in the scene, however, do you remember that I once wrote that a dedicated Visual Storyteller is one who finds their reflection in the souls of others, in the hearts of flowers? Well, look with your heart and you shall see me too… :))

Oh – I forgot to ask Reina whatever captivated her attention skywards! I do not remember the drone of a passing aeroplane, nor a high shrill of a bird swoop overhead. Might it have been something a little more small-scale, quiet, simply floating and bobbing on the clouds? Reina has returned to Japan today, I shall make it a point to contact her so that she may dissipate this amusing riddle into the open…

Trekking With Reina: A Repartee With Flowers

“… I forgot to ask Reina whatever captivated her attention skywards! I do not remember the drone of a passing aeroplane, nor a high shrill of a bird swoop overhead. Might it have been something a little more small-scale, quiet, simply floating and bobbing on the clouds…”

 

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories |Summer Reunion Series | Southern Hampshire | UK 2015