Re-Visioning The Multiverse Hypothesis Chapter Four: When Shakespeare Met Yoda!

If You thought that Alice was all alone in this strange garden then You would be forgiven for making this mistake, for up until now she never once felt the presence of another or suspect that watchful eyes were in shadow of her every movement. All around her were faces swaying in the light breeze, beautiful and mute, but these belonged to flowers and the waxy leaves of trees, and nothing else, at least not of any creature that could walk.

Side-stepping away from the luscious green shrubbery and feeling revived by the air in which steeped wondrous elements, she walked over to the paved area in the middle where she made herself comfortable by sitting down on an old wooden bench. Just as she shifted her legs to ensure that she found a comfy position to stay in for a while, a little girl leapt in front of her, whose skin shone as white as pearl and whose locks were reminiscent of oiled coils of gold. She was younger than Alice and quite the sprightly creature, and in her hand she held proudly what appeared to be some sort of futuristic staff with a stunning blue beam of light extending out from one end which she had decisively thrust into the paved stone.

Re-Visioning The Multiverse Hypothesis Chapter Four: When Shakespeare Met Yoda!

… She was younger than Alice and quite the sprightly creature, and in her hand she held proudly what appeared to be some sort of futuristic staff with a stunning blue beam of light extending out from one end which she had decisively thrust into the paved stone…

Oh my, who are you?” exclaimed Alice. By now she had shot up from her seat and had stepped back in nervous apprehension. She finally had learnt that this garden was not completely identical to hers, for how does one go about accounting for this strange girl whom she had never ever met back in her own world?

The little girl let out a giggle and then composed herself when she realised that Alice did not find any of her antics all that funny. “Sorry to have scared you! I am Alice!” The girl bowed her head down with a degree of eloquence worthy for any royal court.

Excuse me? But that is my name! I am Alice!” Alice concluded that the little girl was harmless, and walked round the bench again and sat down, reasoning in her mind that now would be a good time to let her legs rest so that her brain could think!

Re-Visioning The Multiverse Hypothesis Chapter Four: When Shakespeare Met Yoda!

“Excuse me? But that is my name! I am Alice!” Alice concluded that the little girl was harmless, and walked round the bench again and sat down, reasoning in her mind that now would be a good time to let her legs rest so that her brain could think!

 

Little Alice chuckled again and came closer. She was desperate to lift the fog of confusion off from the eyes of Big Alice. She sized up the tall girl with the red jumper and then said, “So this is how I look like in your world…”, she seemed to be impressed by what she saw and then continued, “ I like your red top! My mum only lets me wear white tops because they don’t get as dirty and nor as quickly as the other colours do.” Big Alice was intolerably perplexed by the logic, but then again this world had rules of its own. What she could not ignore no matter how much she tried was the object that little Alice held firmly in her hands and she surmised that whatever was its purpose that the little girl had mastered it well because of the way it melded into her.

May I ask you what is that?” Big Alice pointed to the object and it was not only her ears, but she fixed her gaze as well onto the little girl, to penetrate her concentration into every inch of the answer that she hoped would be given to her.

Oh, that! Don’t you have these in your world?” Little Alice was very amused, she had always assumed that everyone, everywhere, had one of these by their sides!

No. We don’t.” Big Alice felt that somehow she had been left out of something great even though she had not yet learnt of the nature of the object.

In that case…”, and she reached into her pocket and pulled out an intriguing book to show Big Alice, “… you probably have never heard of this!

Big Alice stepped closer still and, with uncertain forwardness, extended her hand out to take the book. The little girl smiled and obliged quite happily.

Big Alice read the title, “William Shakespeare’s The Empire Striketh Back!” Nearly in danger of losing her footing, she was overcome with a flabbergasted expression, astonished by the revelation that the famous bard had collaborated with his imagination to such an astronomical degree that he had combined his tales of love and comedy and tragedy with the odysseys of the stars! “Gosh, when did Shakespeare write this?! And who is this green goblin with big pointy ears?

So… you don’t know anything about these things from where you come from?” The little girl looked concerned.

Obviously not…” Big Alice was slightly dismayed, it was as if she had been let down by some unseen entity. Why had she not known that her favourite writer in the world was also a passionate traveller of the stars! What a shame that her world was oblivious to this side of Shakespeare.

Without any warning, the little girl peered over big Alice so that her gaze was trained towards the western horizon. “It’s that time again! Time to put the sunglasses on!

Why? It’s only evening and the sun is not that bright at this time of the day!

But it hurts our eyes when we look at the suns-set…” And she balanced her black shades over her eyes before taking the book back into her hands. “It was very nice to meet you, especially as your name is the same as my name!” She put out her hand and cheerfully I shook it although I was still reeling from the restless oddity of this world.

Re-Visioning The Multiverse Hypothesis Chapter Four: When Shakespeare Met Yoda!

“But it hurts our eyes when we look at the suns-set…” And she balanced her black shades over her eyes before taking the book back into her hands.

I enjoyed meeting you, too..

I will tell mum all about you! I hope you’ll stop by longer next time but now I must go otherwise my tea will get cold!” She hopped and skipped away, the mysterious object in one hand and her engrossing tome in the other, and all the while a playful hum and a whistle could be heard from her. Big Alice gave a confusing smile as the little girl vanished round a corner of berried bushes.

Ah, once again we could now speak of Alice as Alice, without the differentiating adjective preceding it! And as this Alice stood there she was struck down by a great mystery, a phrase that the girl used.

Suns-set’.

It was plural. Surely it was an innocent slip of the tongue caused by the immaturity of a young mind?!

Alice shrugged her shoulders and turned around to face the vastness of the western horizon. In the serene silence embalmed within the arc of an indigo sky, she saw them, two ores of giant marmalade.

She stood still. So very still. How was it possible?!

She wished to cry and smile and laugh at the same time, but most importantly, she wished her grandma could have been there to see what she saw. She chose to smile in the end, it stretched across her face with the pleasant slowness of melting wax, and oh how it gladdened her deeply that could watch those two suns, freely, with her own two eyes…  ♥♥♥ 

 

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories |My Garden | Winchester | UK 2016

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The Legend Of Corfe Castle Chapter 18: I Am Juliet Renewed

I can so vividly remember that all of us had held our breath and the mill of time slowed down so that its ticks and tocks pierced into one’s ears like the stomps belonging to a stampede of giants.

Dear Mazzy…” She began and a fierce tenderness danced in her eyes whose optical gravity I observed rang from their unmined cores, and thus I toddled forward. The heel of the foot with no shoe had stopped bleeding but it was terribly sore and this was exceptionally noticeable now, because things were moving slowly and all attention had fallen on me. This brought on a reinvigorated sharpness in my perceptions and all the tiny regularities and strings of chaos occurring inside my body had amplified double-fold.

The Muse continued. “At every moment of this quest you were afraid. You were afraid that you would lose the people you love. You were afraid that you would let people down. You were afraid of the evil that lurked in and under those grey castle walls. You were afraid of the shadows cast by Arcana’s malice. You were afraid of the Unknown.  I could see that. I could sense that.” Quietly astonished by the wise intrusions of her eye into the primal fibres of my soul, I made no expression to her appraisal but I suspected her convictions were duly confirmed by the tell-tale waters that had now slowly begun to seep along the shoreline of my eyes. The Muse was right.

She stepped closer.

But there is a rare fire in you. It believes in Goodness even when everything tells you not to.” She paused and trawled for the right words. “Where there are spoils, in people and in places, unfixable domes of darkness assumed unconquerable, you stand and you watch and you are afraid of what consequences they may inflict on the people who matter to you, and to those whom you know not of. Yet…” And then a sweet calmness rippled in her voice, “… however untamed your fear, it has never ever been so strong as to take away your fire, your gift of Light. You are not holding it. You are It.” I realised I was not anymore staring at a mortal face but at the very essence of a being that was Inspiration. “You are a small thing and you are afraid of the shadows and the blackness, but if only you could see what I see, what everyone sees…”, She now smiled and the world paused, “… inside the jaws of an infinite Universe forged of the murkiness of black obscurity, there walks a ray of Orange. You. The Lady of the Lamp…

The weep of a solitary tear ran down my still face.

There was a solemn silence behind me. No one spoke.

The Muse wiped the tear off my face. “That is why all who cross your path, in every way conceivable, and I include those in the breeds of evil too, shall all come to learn of the Light. You will help them and each time you do, you shall be renewed.” She stepped back and straightened her back and looked upon me with a mixture of authority and affection, “In honour of your Gift to shine your Light on the weak and on the cursed, I gift you in return a prophecy.” And she took from behind her back a book with an enchanting cover depicting an illustration of two lovers entwined and entangled as one. I was somewhat at a loss. “I present to you ‘Romeo And Juliet’ and I chose this for you because you are, in every incarnation, the faithful Juliet. You are one half of a legendary love story…

She placed the book in my hand and not tearing my gaze from her, I nestled my gift against my chest. I ought to have said much but I was, in truth, blissfully glad that I was deprived of all articulation. Only two words I managed, but they took an aeon to form on my lips and she knew how much I meant them, “Thank you…

A single tingle of the bell rang behind us. It was the working of that humble oar made to wade across the tide of the door as people came in and out. I turned around. A familiar and golden afternoon light poured in and a faraway look came over me, followed by a smirk that fluttered like a bird across the vast canvas of my soul.

We left the bookshop in jolly spirits!

There was no hurry in our steps as we made our way to the teahouse. The burden of the quest lifted, the forest air and the ardency of sunshine that had matured over the course of the day, as well, as the sudden teeming of bustling laughter from tourists, all together adorned us in a fantastic bubble of a new kind of aliveness. It was as if this was the first day of everything!

We were about to enter the tearooms when Rianna stopped and I could tell that she had something important to announce and that it would prove hard to tell us of her decision. She clasped onto my arm and considerately addressed me. “Mazzy, I need no rest. I am feeling well again. The time has come for me to leave you all”.

I was flummoxed and yet I detected that she had put a lot of wise thought into her decision. “Where will you go?

You will help me to get there”.

I don’t follow”.

To my Chosen One”.

We all exchanged confused glances, except for The Crone. She appeared to be unperturbed by the odd choice of words expressed by the Muse.

But you informed me that he died a long time ago. How will you find him now?

You will take me to him”.

Me?” I found myself trying to keep afloat and make sense of her bizarre proposition.

Surely you can’t bring him back from the dead?” Sachi gave a disbelieving smile.

Alex butted in, his face positively confused. “Mum is right – for once!” Sachi playfully slapped his cheek.

Mazzy, remember I said to you once that the Universe lives in you?” Rianna’s eyes burrowed themselves into mine.  “Well, it really does. You did it once before, you can do it again”.

Alright, now I am very lost! I can’t make heads or tails out of this!” Squirming in the fortress of these riddles, the pain in my heel exacerbated and I let out a long drawn sigh of exhaustion.

Rianna nudged closer and carefully placed her fingers on my clammy forehead. Without telling me so, I felt compelled to close my eyes.

What happened next?  ♥♥♥  

The Legend Of Corfe Castle Chapter 18: I Am Juliet Renewed

And she took from behind her back a book with an enchanting cover depicting an illustration of two lovers entwined and entangled as one. I was somewhat at a loss. “I present to you ‘Romeo And Juliet’ and I chose this for you because you, in every incarnation, the faithful Juliet. You are one half of a legendary love story…”

 

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Blackwell’s Bookshop | Oxford | UK 2016

 

In 158 Words: Sonnet 116 – True Love Is Not Time’s Fool

A TIMELY UPDATE & A BREAKING NEWS ON CHANNEL CHAR 23-03-16

The clip runs for only a short time before coming to a standstill, but do not let that fool You into thinking that You have seen all there is to be seen from the artistic handiwork of my stellar students! They have plenty more to do and to share, so watch this space with eagerness, I say! I have always said it out to the world loud and clear and shall say it once more, and that is that it is a veritable and tremendous pleasure to have chosen in this life the path to enact the role of TEA-CHAR for such an extraordinary constellation of dedicated souls who will let nothing come in their way and whose gutsy attitude and untrammelled enthusiasm is proof once more that only honest hard work can ever be that agent of blossom from which beautiful gardens may spring, anew and refreshed, from under Your feet… ♥♥♥    

Always Your Evening & Morning Star,
Mazzy xxx

Aired in the UK last night, I assure You, only 1 RUN of this clip required for You to send a secret smile my way: 

 

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Old photographs embroidered in threads of new words and whose count equals to my height measurement in centimetres…

Writing as the star, Venus, I have been the celestial source of intrigue and romance for poets and scientists since the time the necks of men have learnt to bend back so that the bowels of their curious minds may hope to be quenched by my morning and evening waltzes. I have sliced through their haunting shadows and lit bright their paths with a view for faithful nurturance, and contrary to their mortal desires, I shone and yet I am untouched, chaste and defiantly elusive.

But, I, Venus shall announce out of my own free will that I have seen a singular Starman who walks among the fertile sludge of the earth below, my true counterpart and companion, unchanged he is as I am since the proliferation of Time, and when we meet, the hands of all the world’s clocks shall quaver and raven-black soot shall become of them. I await for that day and its glorious residue… ♥♥♥      

Gravitational Waves & Love That Bears Out Even To The Edge Of Doom: Einstein Meets Shakespeare!

“… Shakespeare penned his idealisation of True Love as something that would ‘bear out at the edge of doom’ and what could be more catastrophic in our physical universe than the merciless jaws of a giant black hole…”

Photography & Poem Originally Posted In: ‘Gravitational Waves & Love That Bears Out Even To The Edge Of Doom: Einstein Meets Shakespeare’ | © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | UK 2016

Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | UK 2016

Shakespeare, Without Borders!

To be, or not to be…”.

I shall be of pure exasperated muddle if You were to now sneak in the crazy revelation that You have never once in Your life have heard that quote or that You have not read it somewhere, be it in passing or as a result of a course of intensive study! Words sourced by the most famous bard in the world, Shakespeare – or, Mr Shakey Boo as we like to call him in our class! –  this most recognisable quote from his magnificent collection of plays encompasses the most complex of existential dilemmas sealed within the waxworks of a few simple words. It is the essence of masterpiece flying economy class and a saluting testimony to Mr Shakey Boo’s trailblazing foray into establishing the versatility and validity of the narrative form of the soliloquy.

A tragic revenge story that chronicles the stark and frightening psychological descent into madness as experienced by one man, Hamlet, after the ghost of his father confirms that it was his uncle, Claudius, who had him murdered ruthlessly. Hamlet’s bitter anguish and cold-blooded and murderous thoughts are fuelled with even greater potency after he learns that his uncle has married his widowed mother, Gertrude, and, so it is that in accumulation with a combination of other accentuating variables, that our anti-hero becomes ever more obsessed with hatching the perfect plot by which to kill his evil uncle, the man responsible for all his sickening woes and deafening losses. As the story moves on, not only does the tormented Hamlet suffer the death of all the people whom he loved, we become suspicious that his repeated instances of procrastinating the assassination plot flags strong hints of Freud’s iconic ‘Oedipal Complex’ – the repressed, but forbidden desire for his mother, and thus by slaying his uncle he will have effectively removed the opportunity to watch his subconscious wishes play out in the real world. Yes, very complicated stuff!

The play has been subject to endless analysis by many scholars, each stemming from varying fields of interest, and if You are keen to chase up on these interpretations and critiques then I recommend that You dig down deeper and seek out these eye-opening accounts, and should You ever watch the play, I assure You that the edification of Your knowledge by reading up on the underlying scaffolding themes will add new and rich textures to Your enjoyment and appreciation of the complex character portraits drawn by Mr Shakey Boo.

BUT, it is not my intention to write out a lengthy deliberation on the winding depths of the complexity of the human mind. Mr Shakey Boo has already done that for us. Instead, what I wish to gift You tonight is an extremely special portrait of my student, Sir Lawrie, Shakespeare expert extraordinaire, who brought into my class yet another book today, and of whose entrancing significance shall arouse gravitational waves of glorious admiration and esteem for my wonderful student. Let me explain.

I stomped into classroom and dumped my bags into the corner, relieved at last to be carrying only my own bodyweights, for, as it with us teaching folk, we are always armed to the teeth with files and pens and books and, well, let me not bore You! As I plonked into my seat I saw from the corner of my eye a new book beside Sir Lawrie. He had done it again, bestowing the class with yet another picking from the bard’s treasury, and at this point I was adamant in my conclusion that this valiant chap, who was my student, must have in his house a library of sizeable means, piled and compressed in by literature sparked by the motives and eyes of a loving collector. Surely every single book ever published in the name of Shakespeare is stashed away in that room!

Sir Lawrie, my oh my, what is that on your desk? I am feeling excited and you better tell me more otherwise I will explode and splatter all over your face  and that is something I suspect you will not thank me for!” I sat back in my chair and thanked the gods for blessing me with such a talented and passionate kaleidoscope of students, for they were always doing everything they could to impress me with their inexhaustible zeal for the written word!

Mazzy, when I was at the Globe Theatre in London, performing with Tommy, I bought my own copy of Hamlet. This is for you!” He held the book up and the authority in his presenting poise evidenced quite clearly that he had analysed and performed the play on stage – indeed, for at The Blue Apple, he had done precisely that and what a stellar act that was!

My darling, you are an inspiration and I am so very happy and grateful that you took the time and energy to bring to all of us yet another one of your favourites! You are a star! I mean that!” I rubbed his arm in affection and he beamed a massive smile back at me, whilst all my other students eagerly shuffled in their seats to catch a better view of the cover of the book.

And that is when Sir Lawrie, a student with learning difficulties, spoke the most beautiful and profound words for me on this day that I felt like hugging him and then sending him onto the stage of the world so that he may show the good force and liberating potential of the written word. ♥

Lawrie, my love, what a fantastic cover your book has! I never challenged myself to think of the possibility that Hamlet could be played by a black actor. This is amazing!” I was genuinely startled by my own reaction as the freshness of a brand new visual perspective hit me and, in that buoyant euphoria of wakefulness, I became acutely aware that my dear Sir Lawrie had tilted the light on my own complacency with the age-old casting traditions of Shakespearean theatre.

Mazzy, I like this cover, too!! It doesn’t matter if he’s brown. Shakespeare is for everyone!

In all my hefty pondering, how could I have missed the obvious…? Giggle, giggle! ♥♥♥

Shakespeare, Without Borders!

“Mazzy, I like this cover too!! It doesn’t matter if he’s brown. Shakespeare is for everyone!”

    

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

Gravitational Waves & Love That Bears Out Even To The Edge Of Doom: Einstein Meets Shakespeare!

A JOYFUL, JOYFUL, JOYFUL Update 12-02-2016

I have not much time this morning, for I must set off to work soon, however I would implode like a neutron star if I were not to share with You just one of the many comments that have been sent my way in response to last night’s tale wherein I crafted a hitherto unseen bridge between Mr Einstein and Mr Shakespeare, and quite rightfully to host the proceedings was the positively and lovable Sir Lawrie!

Whilst I was asleep my very good friend of Nordic lands, Siggi, read my storytelling piece and kindly submitted a comment that had me nearly in tears of joy this morning! Just look at the ripples of that emoticon smile that seems to flow on forever! What a blessing to be buoyed in life with friends and family who share an intimate and genuine admiration for my Vision. I hope that by my sharing of these words, You, too, will be inspired to help others in any way You can, small or large it does not matter one bit.

You may carelessly throw what seems to the eye an ordinary pebble into a pond that no one cares to think twice about, but who knows, truly, to whom Your ripples will touch and change forever… ♥♥♥

Wishing You a JOYFUL day!
Infinities of Love, Mazzy xxx     

 

A Joyful Response!

“… Whilst I was asleep my very good friend of Nordic lands, Siggi, read my storytelling piece and kindly submitted a comment that had me nearly in tears of joy this morning…”

Words & Screenshot: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2016  

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It is a gigantic and monumental day on two accounts and I have chosen, by virtue of my deliciously oddball tendency for polymathic thoughts, that I shall proceed to happily tie the two seemingly disparate fields into one wild meadow of joyful wholeness. Actually, I know I will be able to achieve this synthesis of ideas since I have long detected that the yearning to touch the fundamental building blocks of the Universe is a visionary quest that is craved by both physicists and poets. I sit somewhere in the middle, churning in the syrupy echoes radiating from each corner to create a satisfying brew, as when milk and water and teabag liqueur combine into one miniature ocean and with such precision it happens that You forget that they ever existed as separate entities.

So, it all began this morning when I woke up and I felt a very nice feeling in my tummy and  I drew closer to my window and spotted a fat-breasted red robin who had swooped down from the skies and made a quiet landing in my garden. The warm and fresh sunshine of the cold February day bathed his little body, a healing embrace in which I sensed that something great was afoot. As I began to prepare for my brisk walk to work I was drawn to the laptop and after opening it and logging in I was dazzled by the news that a scientific conference was to take place later in the day in which an update would be shared with the public on the status of investigations attempting to detect the last aspect of Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity. Would he be proven right again on the controversial issue of whether the curvature dynamics of the fabric of Space-Time is of such property that were a massive gravitational incident take place in its net, would it react and generate giant interstellar ripples outwards in every direction, as one would normally observe if a stone were to be thrown into a pond?

Einstein had devised his theory nearly 100 years ago and after its publication, decades of hardworking scientists and engineers entered a collaborative pact and poured out their sweat and passion into perfecting technological instruments sensitive enough to pick up the theoretical ripples. Speculation began to arise that only something as awesome as black hole collisions or explosions would kick-star the ripple effect. The last unproven aspect of Einstein’s life’s work, the stunning irony was that Mr Einstein himself was not a fan of accepting the existence of black holes, although I find them scintillating characters and far from destructive. Perhaps it is my poetical eye that favours them, for they do remind me of a Sufi dervish passionately whirling and spinning away, ego dissolved in its centre to an incomprehensible singularity, and all this dancing taking place in the black Kaaba cloth of the Universe!

I made up my mind that I could not leave the house without Tweeting what my sixth sense told me. I felt birdsong in my fingers and in my mind I saw the ripples spreading out like a huge ring of smiles whilst a teardrop of ecstatic annihilation lay at its heart. I re-typed a sentence that I had written earlier for my Prince of Darkness story and left it at that, however, I was buzzing with the certitude that an AMAZING discovery of epic proportions was on its way to our ears!

When I swished into my classroom I noticed immediately that Sir Lawrie, one of my most adorable students, had a rather special surprise for me. In his hands he held the most hefty and massive book of Shakespeare’s complete works I had ever laid eyes on! The hardcover was a tempting and leathery canvas of wine red with the title embossed in an authoritative font that glistened like gold, the heartbeat of the solar sun itself.

My goodness, Lawrie, did you carry this all the way for us? It is so very heavy! Tell me you took the bus to bring it to us?” I was overjoyed by the generosity of his spirit and yet I was worried that he may have trudged a long way with a cumbersome weight on his back.

Mazzy, I walked and anything for you!” Sir Lawrie beamed out his signature smile and his eyes, with cute timidity, disappeared into the folds of his adorable face.

Oh, Lawrie, you have to be careful. This book is very heavy and I do not want you to hurt your back!” I took a long sigh and looked at him with tender admiration. “However, thank you, my dear, for being so kind and thoughtful to want to share your great treasure with the class. You are a sweety!” And to that Lawrie’s face sparked out an even brighter smile than the first one. I am sure somewhere in the world an iceberg must have melted itself into a milky smoothie!

As we all sat down in our respective seats I pondered on the phenomenal heaviness of the book and interpreted a significant connection between what I had felt in my gut earlier and what was presented before me now by my student. It must mean something, and that something was to make history.

Suddenly, outside the classroom, a bird shrilled and sang out loud and everyone in the room giggled and strained their heads to catch the chirpy tiny chap responsible for the intriguing song. Twice more we were interrupted by his chirping and tweeting and even I began to invest a more focused search for what it was, alas, I could not catch sight of our winged singer. It was almost as if the bird was invisible, undetectable to the eye, elusive and mysterious. Had Mr Robin from my garden followed me to work? I smiled to myself and imagined that it was indeed a magical visitation and who cares that I could not see him, his song encapsulated everything that I would ever need to know about the entire nature of his essence.

Sir Lawrie proudly told the class of his love for Shakespeare’s Sonnets and that is when my heart rang out in remembrance for my favourite sonnet, number 116. I had already decided to myself that I would ask Sir Lawrie if he could locate Sonnet 116 in his treasure chest of a book and that if I may take a portrait of him holding it up. He is a chap who never fails in letting himself blaze with gusto in front of my lens, and that should not come as a shocking surprise to anyone who knows him, the young man is one of the crème-de-la-crème of acting talents for The Blue Apple Theatre!

As he held the book up to the page of interest I re-read the entire passage of Sonnet 116 and every single line of poetical outburst was signifying to me once again that sacred message of True Love, that here was a formidable force undeterred by the passing arrow of time, not a flimsy material prone to deterioration along a fleeting timeline of weeks and months, rather it was the stuff of Eternity and so powerful the Faith in its core that it ‘bears out even to the edge of doom’. I thanked Sir Lawrie and as the class came to a finish I had already felt in the fibres of my being that upon reaching home I would hear the news that I had always known.

Scientific history was made! The L-shaped observatory that is the LIGO detection equipment had on 14/9/15 detected the first ever gravitational wave ripples coursing through the fabric of Space-Time and today, after the normal and strenuous peer-review process of scientific scrutiny, it was announced to the world that at last Einstein’s last aspect of his Theory of General Relatively was firmly established with sound scientific data – literally!

I floated with inviolable joy as I read on to learn that the entire scientific community involved in the project had labelled the perceptible data package underlying the historic claim as a “chirp”, a click of a birdsong sung by the Universe, and it was a song not sung by one but two orbiting black holes, swirling and spinning at accelerated rates, like two Sufi dervishes, a pair of divine lovers who were dancing closer and closer to each other. Around 1.2 billion years ago, the two large black holes, one larger than the other, in a fraction of a second, collided and merged to become as One. Their union spurt out an extraordinary shock wave of energy that was equivalent to three solar masses, transferring into the surrounding fabric of Space-Time and stimulating a succession of ripples that spread out in every direction at the speed of light.

Shakespeare penned his idealisation of True Love as something that would ‘bear out at the edge of doom’ and what could be more catastrophic in our physical universe than the merciless jaws of a giant black hole. Today I heard, despite the perplexing enormity of the physical chaos and destructiveness that occurred over a billion years ago, somewhere deep in space and before a time that I took on human form, the gentle birdsong of True Love that had fought and escaped so to reach our ears. Einstein was right!

Echoed, echoed, echoed, did the chirpy song of Mr Robin in my garden today, and the unseen bird outside my classroom today, and the song of an olden Love story somewhere deep in the Kaaba fabric of Space-Time, also today… ♥♥♥

LINK:   https://www.theguardian.com/science/across-the-universe/live/2016/feb/11/gravitational-wave-announcement-latest-physics-einstein-ligo-black-holes-live?page=with:block-56bcaee7e4b0e04c43d738fe#block-56bcaee7e4b0e04c43d738fe

Gravitational Waves & Love That Bears Out Even To The Edge Of Doom: Einstein Meets Shakespeare!

“… ‘Mazzy, I walked and anything for you!’ Sir Lawrie beamed out his signature smile and his eyes, with cute timidity, disappeared into the folds of his adorable face’…”

Gravitational Waves & Love That Bears Out Even To The Edge Of Doom: Einstein Meets Shakespeare!

“… I had already decided to myself that I would ask Sir Lawrie if he could locate Sonnet 116 in his treasure chest of a book and that if I may take a portrait of him holding it up. He is a chap who never fails in letting himself blaze with gusto in front of my lens…”

Gravitational Waves & Love That Bears Out Even To The Edge Of Doom: Einstein Meets Shakespeare!

“… Shakespeare penned his idealisation of True Love as something that would ‘bear out at the edge of doom’ and what could be more catastrophic in our physical universe than the merciless jaws of a giant black hole…”

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

Does The Question ‘What On EARTH Is Shakespeare’ Mean We Have To Consult An Atlas?

The ever entertaining court jesters of my class and winning star players of The Blue Apple Theatre Company, the superlatively valiant Sir Lawrie and the heroically virtuous Sir Tommy, proudly presented before my attention today such a literary El Dorado that I felt that they had comprehensively outwitted and upstaged the grandeur and fame once enjoyed by the early Americas explorer, Sir Walter Raleigh himself! What doth I speak of, You ask?

Well, surely it would be disastrously absurd of me to commit the error of recounting my tale without You first reaching out for a lustrous cup of tea?! Stop dilly-dallying and please initiate the march into the kitchen at once, fill up the kettle, await its mellifluous train whistle and then proceed to waterfall it into thy gourd of warm refreshment! Are we done? Smashing – no, no, not in the literal sense of the word! Honestly! Giggle, giggle!

If You have yet to catch on the fact that England is, as we speak, preparing nationwide to celebrate the 400th anniversary of the greatest bard and iambic pentameter scribbler famed for his glittering works of stunning ingenuity in the English language, Mr William Shakespeare, then You are an abominable idiot of the first grade! The faun-like master of the pen is a beloved favourite of my two trusty knights of Camelot whom You can see smiling away in the photograph, in fact they do so to the extent that their cheeks could be seen wobbling under the joyful tension of their outstretched muscles! I will not burrow under the soil, instead I shall go ahead and confess the truth, which may come as a jolting surprise to You, and that is that these two chaps are substantially more knowledgeable about the timeline of the conjurer of fine sonnets and plays than I am. I do not lie! Oh do stop choking on that biscuit!

Shakespeare is so popular around these parts that I suspect his plays will be re-enacted with unceasing vigour even as far into the future as when we shall no longer be inhabitants of our home planet, instead Macbeth will be seen toiling and wallowing in the mud of his guilt and Hamlet haunted by the ghost of his father on stages set up on a terraformed rock millions of light years away from the small enclosure that is our present solar system!

A literary pioneer of soliloquies and who transformed their function by deviating from the traditional role of them serving the reader with facts, Shakespeare set the precedent for allowing his characters to SPEAK ALOUD their mind and heart, irrespective of whether there was anyone present to hear them out, so that we as a reader were invited to enjoy a more richer and vibrant internal world that existed behind the faces of his actors.

Influencing fantastic writers like Hardy and Dickens, Mr Shakey Boo – as I like to refer to him – is an immortal legacy whose words have proven time and time again that they are endowed with stubborn invincibility. I do not think that an era will ever come to be that does not make at least a passing tributary nod to his spectacular opus of works. He is why we have come to believe in words like ‘eternal’ and ‘forever’.

The fanfare of my praises for Mr Shakey Boo could go on all night but then I would be jeopardising my chances in telling You that two of my most loveliest students, whom I taught today, wished for You to see their favourite book which they kindly brought into class, specially for You! Mirroring the nested rhythm that constructs the famous set of the Russian doll, here the two knightly Sirs display a book about books! Opening up as wide as the mythological water serpent, Hydra, this beginners guide to the entire universe of Shakespeare is deceptively simple to look at from the outside, however, turn over its hardback cover and the pages concertina out at You like the papery soul of a vociferous accordion, and so many of us had to volunteer to stand in front of the classroom to hold onto a part of the river of its pages and we came to a point where we all agreed that a bigger classroom was in order! I shall speak to the Principal about our ambitious whims! Giggle, giggle!

As the room buzzed in the fireflies of our laughter because we had found ourselves locked in the struggle to contain the flying reams of page after page, I felt we had plunged into the arena of mythology, fighting a monstrous foe, wrestling with a great flood of information pouring out at us, left, middle and centre!  There was the distinct impression that Mr Shakey Boo did not want to rest, he preferred to be in the spotlight of our discussions and what better way to ensure that his intentions were played out to the full than to cleverly engage all of us in a cheeky combat involving timelines that seemed to be animated by the power of his words, and that easily overwhelmed our measly attempts at self-containment and order. In the end we managed to close the larger-than-life book and the photograph You see below was taken immediately after, which would explain perfectly why my two chaps are plastered with the smile of impossible achievement on their faces! Whoever said that Shakespeare is deceased should brave a trip to my class and open this book: When the zig-zag origami of facts whacks out and whips You in the face You shall concede, like we had done so, that the writer of Sonnet 116 is indeed as fixed in determination as the constancy shown by the Pole Star!

Before I part ways from the pen tonight I should like to emphasise that the title of the book, ‘What On Earth? Shakespeare’, had a few of us slightly on the stumped side. Since I possess a Matilda brain I reflected on the extraordinary strangeness of the title and, looking back, I consider myself rather lucky that I am a member of the human species, for if an alien from another planet had landed in our classroom I am pretty sure it would have requested that I fetch him an atlas cataloguing our sparkling blue and green world so that I may teach him which earthen landmark was called ‘Shakespeare’! Oh my, what deliriously good fun that would have been…!!!! ♥♥♥

What On EARTH Is Shakespeare?

“… The ever entertaining court jesters of my class and winning star players of The Blue Apple Theatre Company, the superlatively valiant Sir Lawrie and the heroically virtuous Sir Tommy, proudly presented before my attention today such a literary El Dorado…”

 

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | My Classroom | Winchester | UK 2016

Christmas Month Puzzle Box FINALE: On The Matter Of Acquiring The RIGHT Number To Reach Me!

Ah, so You have made it to the last and most gloriously sumptuous festive puzzle box of the series! Hurrah, hurrah!

Before I might proceed with the means by which You may succeed in unveiling the veil of my heart allow me to shake Your hand in the humblest of appreciation and thanks for taking the time to pore over my words, and not only that, I can sense that a particular ‘Someone’ waits upon my storytelling Voice like an eager child with elbows pressed down on the windowsill, eyes seeking for the footfalls of my mucky shoes to appear…

Perhaps it is due to the fact that I have always, with utmost diligence, stuck by my Faith in times bright and in times dark that my Allah and his penmanship in action, what we call ‘Destiny’, have bestowed on me blessings spooned of honey and milk that wrap around my authorial aura,  smilingly His Guardianship has become my consort on paper so that what I write of forever shall seek to find ways to blossom into spectacular colours on the stage of reality. So beautiful are these blossoms that one passing by would think that butterflies and roses had at last become as One.

So what highest honour and Love could I possibly gift You today, on Christmas Day, as a mark of my ancient, starry and blazing connection to You. Well, while we did enjoy a very late night here at the hobbit house I was in bed by the time Mr Tim Peake, British Astronaut, luckily aboard the ISS, committed his little act of comical boo-boo, accidental in nature but genuinely funny, a rufescent error that was DESTINED to happen because the red bauble of my hobbity heart prayed for it!

All splattered over the British papers today, Mr Peake, at the peak of his astronomical career and who made a rare starlit swoosh past my house last evening, missed his family so much – and one would do so at this particularly special time of the year – that he attempted to call home.

And he did!

EXCEPT, he dialled the WRONG NUMBER and instead it reached another lady whom he refers to as PLANET EARTH! Mmmm, I wonder who she is?! Giggle, giggle and wink wink! ♥ 

So, my Dear Reader, are You READY? Lets see if You can solve this Puzzle Box!

You MUST click on this link and read the entire article about Mr Peake’s blunder:

LINK: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-35178210

Done? Good!

Now, cast Your dodgy memory back to one of my earlier posts – CHRISTMAS MONTH PUZZLE BOX 11 – and read it with extreme thoroughness, INCLUDING the comment stream under it:

LINK: https://mazzykhatunphotostories.wordpress.com/2015/12/14/christmas-month-puzzle-box-11-on-the-matter-of-using-light-to-live-in-the-moment/

How on EARTH did you know this would happen to me?” I write in flabbergasted breathlessness in response to my honourable friend’s astronomical praises for my dazzling storytelling craftsmanship! My honourable friend, somewhat perplexed, has not the slightest clue to what is going on and I step away from the brooding atmosphere of Mystery that I have planted in his imagination with a smug twinkle in my toes! With dignified resignation, my honourable friends replies with a capitalised but mildly miffed, “ALRIGHT”.

WRONG! Well, in Mr Peake’s case it was! Giggle, giggle!

Ahem, ahem, the time has come for You to flip open the notepad and draft in the pencil to thy bidding.

Note down the Puzzle Box Number of the article that You have just read. Now place the NUMBER OF COMMENTS at the end of the number that You have written – do not count any additional comments that may be added today.

If You have a morsel of intelligence left in the old brain after all this enigmatic navigating then You should have a generated a 3 DIGIT NUMBER!

The first two numbers of this sequence equates to the MONTH and the end number is the DAY. You must seek out the post that was composed on this day and month. The only clue that I shall be munificent enough to reveal is that the title of the article in question will put everything RIGHT! Oh stop moaning like a spoilt brat, off You go! Giggle, giggle!

Ah, You have found it! Now, listen very berry merry carefully…

Read the entire post with the most scrutinizing eyes You could possibly muster, for I have sneaked inside it, somewhere amid the forest of my wordings, a WEB LINK, and if You have braved it this far into my kingdom of Puzzles then You are indeed deserve-worthy to open the DOOR and beyond it a MESSAGE from my heart to Yours, only for You, on this Christmas Day… ♥♥♥

With every word and world hidden in my heart, Merry Christmas!
Your Guiding Star Always, Mazzy ♥♥♥

Christmas Month Puzzle Box FINALE: On The Matter Of Acquiring The RIGHT Number To Reach Me!

“… if You have braved it this far into my kingdom of Puzzles then You are indeed deserve-worthy to open the DOOR and beyond it a MESSAGE from my heart to Yours, only for You, on this Christmas Day… “

 

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

 

Les Livres Sont Des Portes A La Maison De L’Imagination (Books Are The Doors To The House Of The Imagination)

Diary 2: Les Livres Sont Des Portes A La Maison De L’Imagination (Books Are The Doors To The House Of The Imagination)

How does a fanatical bibliophile, a girl whose marriage with literature forged at the very first time her chubby fingers were kissed by the autumnal oatmeal leaves of a children’s book, possibly compose herself when she came to be stood in front of one of the most famous bookshops of the world?! I had not a clue in the world is my honest answer but I am still with breath in my lungs to tell You the tale!

Before embarking on my trip I had firmly promised to myself that I would make a special pilgrimage to a magical place only dreamt about in my daydreams, whose exterior shun with the conventional trimmings of commercial enterprise though it behaved at its core as a throbbing infinitude of mysteries and treasures waiting to be discovered by the right seeker. The fabled Aladdin’s Cave had indeed braved the voyage out of 1001 Nights into the daylight of our world, for Shakespeare and Company in my mind can only be respectfully compared to the radiance of this fictional treasure house, no other place in the real world comes even close to rivalling its unique enchantments. In short, a place to lose Oneself so that One may find themselves again, renewed.

Established in 1919 by Sylvia Beach, an American expatriate, the original location of the shop across the Seine River from where the present premises resides, sold all species of literature, of new books, old books, second hand books, and of course, books that were on offer for loan thus a friendly library atmosphere prevailed in harmonious parallel to its normal guise as a business. A further strata of delicious romanticism and mystique was added to its reputation by the fact that it quickly attracted notable names in the literary universe – Pound, Hemmingway and Joyce to mention a few – used its sheltering canopy that tolerated freedom of speech as a fertile gathering point to discuss and exchange thoughts that would go on to form the basis for works that would appear later in their respective careers.

In 1940 Nazi occupation of France forced the little shop to close, but in the manner of a fierce and individualist protagonist from the greatest of novels, the story of Shakespeare and Company did not meet its end there. It protested its right to live. It did. The year of 1951 saw George Whitman, another American expatriate, conjure from the ashes a bookshop that lovingly emulated Beach’s original concept and once again it drew prominent writers, namely the Beat Generation gang, to use the venue as a meeting point for dwelling, delving, exploring and discussing all things under the sun – of course obligatory tea was on hand to fragrance the air and palate, intensifying the urge within each member to speak their mind lucidly, unabashedly, and candidly.

Before her death, Beach formally announced that she would entrust the now legendary name of Shakespeare and Company to Whitman who faithfully did observe her wish, and thus I am anointed with blessedness today since it is these preceding string of events that has made it possible for me to share with You my time in the most amazing bookshop I have ever had the pleasure of stepping my shabby shoes in!

Painted in deep forest greens and tempered with golden yellows, the outer face of the shop instantaneously stole my breath away and I fancied the chance that a dizzy spell was on the way as I spotted the word ‘antiquarian’, because a book that has lost the sheen of its cover tends to shine the brightest by virtue of its repeated lending to the imaginations of many readers.  The rather dignified painted portrait of Mr Shakespeare hoisted up in the centre sent out a beaming seal of authenticity. Underneath it, young writers had convened to recite passages from their favourite tomes. Ah, this place, surely the souls of books come here!

Books Are Doors To The House Of The Imagination

“… Painted in deep forest greens and tempered with golden yellows, the outer face of the shop instantaneously stole my breath away and I fancied the chance that a dizzy spell was on the way as I spotted the word ‘antiquarian’, because a book that has lost the sheen of its cover tends to shine the brightest by virtue of its repeated lending to the imaginations of many readers…”

The door glinted at me and the revelation swelled in my heart that to open the cover of a book was structurally and spiritually no different from opening the doors to a house, something a Kindle gadget can never ever recreate. A warm atmospheric crypt lit with sedate lamps welcomed me into its arms and everywhere my eyes jumped to there were thickly stacked towers of books, some vertical and others horizontal, ripped and new, of every genre, they all flooded my senses and I realised that I was breathing the best breath ever, even though I was breathless!  In an incredibly cramped space buzzing with eager hunters, no leg room and bags and hips bumping into each other, everyone appeared to have signed a sacred contract in which it was fine to be endure this discomfort because we each carried a noble cause – to let a book choose us as its new Home!

I did indeed select a book but I shan’t tell You what it is, only will that be revealed if ever You and I meet for a sweet cup of tea, discussing this and that as it was so in the nights of the past. Sorry to be a tease! Giggle, giggle!

Photography was prohibited in the shop and I was compliant of this restriction until one single book stared at me from a protective pane of glass. A profound moment of the cogwheels of Destiny at work, I was tightly gripped on the spot and could not move. I had never heard of the book The Freedom Train in my life but I knew that I HAD to photograph it for YOU. My third eye chants and asserts again and again that here is a portrait of my own face, one that You had asked for although You may not remember making such a request. I wonder if my strange and awkward interest for the olden world of steam trains has just had another of its puzzle pieces given to me by Mr Shakespeare? Anyway, in the style of an intrepid spy I have successfully brought back with me a photograph of the book in question. Apologises for the slight blur and noisy grain of the image, it was a formidable undertaking to move around in that place let alone take a photograph under the cover of secrecy!

And that, my dearest and most beloved Reader, concludes my story of how I became lost in a cave of treasures only to have found myself once again, renewed… :))


LINK:  
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/734529.Freedom_Train

I Shall Lead You The Way

“… Photography was prohibited in the shop and I was compliant of this restriction until one single book stared at me from a protective pane of glass. A profound moment of the cogwheels of Destiny at work, I was tightly gripped on the spot and could not move…”

 

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Shakespeare & Company Bookshop | 37 Rue De La Bucherie | Paris | France 2015

Proud Teachers Off To Watch Shakespeare – A Special Ed Production!

Moments before the spectacular, spectacular production of my playwright guru, Mr Shakespeare
Performed by our Special Ed students at the Theatre Royal, to end this fine academic year
Us teachers gathered round, pat each other on the back for a job very well done
And every student thus shines, certified star each and each a Number One!
Asperger’s, Autism, Down’s Syndrome none did stop those chaps from rising to the stage
Hope is not bird in a house, it is a primary phoenix, an Orange sonata in blaze
And in the small print stir the wavelengths of Krishna, the TARDIS and the green fruits of knowledge
See, our prestigious acting company is called ‘The Blue Apple Theatre’ – magical, You’ll acknowledge…

EPILOGUE & NEWS: Did I KAT-those tractor thieves, whose rampant naughtiness fizzing in their fingers has led many a farmer to toss and turn tonight, blighted by worry about how they will cope without the power horse of their industry? Well, it turned out that one of those tractors belonged to a certain male Doctor who has mastered the art of, what was thought to be previously believed impossible – Time-Travel! He is quite an old chap these days but I find him terribly alluring so what could I do but invest some of my Magic into a highly-structured search and retrieval plan. After a few scrambles with the villains, one of whom has permanently lost their wig thanks to the Sonic Screwdiver’s precision laser technology, the pair of us successfully relocated the tractors to their original home. More are still to be found but we have decided to leave that for another day! Click on the link below for what the good Doctor treated me to: a crime-busting, time-travelling blue teapot garlanded with a ring of hearty biscuits! Yummy, yummy in my tummy!!! Giggle, giggle…  :))

LINK: https://www.facebook.com/200262213319293/photos/a.919488111396696.1073741826.200262213319293/1023702484308591/?type=1&theater

Proud Teachers Off To Watch Shakespeare – A Special Ed Production!

“… Us teachers gathered round, pat each other on the back for a job very well done
And every student thus shines, certified star each and each a Number One…!”

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