Mazzy’s Rebel Alliance Crew, Recipe For Bogey Mischief Stew!

Welcome to Mazzy’s fantastical Rebel Alliance crew
A veritable recipe for unpalatable mischief stew
A night remembered, for when ordered tea at the bar in lieu
Bladder burst open laughing upon hearing the bartender’s curfew
For tea, especially, was strictly served before 5pm and no later was due
No concession allowed even as I recited tales of the bogey I blew!

 A most insufferable battle was under way in a remote sector of the Alpha Centauri System, one in which we found ourselves hanging on a thread for dear life after the proton torpedo unit of our ship had become massively clogged up with sludgy bombardments of lavender and lime jelly. Things had turned terribly messy, but I think it was when the highly venerated vending machine, famous for dispensing Haribos and packets of popcorn, started to spew out offensive jets of purple sludge that even the most optimistic of us were brought down and took on morbid thoughts. We were as sure as anything that this was to be the abysmal death of the last of the most decorated members of the Alliance!

In all the frenzied madness my voice fidgeted for attention but drowned in the noise, akin to a drip of water overshadowed by the boastful growl of a thunderclap, and no matter how loudly I spoke none of my team members could hear me. It was imperative that I calmed everyone down and I had do it soon otherwise, forget about the enemy striking us down, it would be the deeds of our own misdirection that would be the demise of us!

As if I was detached from the scene and no longer one of the crew, my exasperated eyes now only scanned the faces of my peers with a sort of exhausted apathy, and I quickly shot a glance out of the thick-pane of the window and saw to my bloated dismay the nuclear jelly reactor of the enemy vessel intensifying its concentration of reserves. My guess was that they had lost interest in this game of teaser-style thumping of viscous slimy particles at our ship and were now prepared to wipe us out completely. Cosmic creepers, jeepers sweepers!

My little head surveyed the deck at frantic speed and even at the last tethers of hope my gut was prodding me with handy advice. Alas, I in my sickening state could hear nothing, and I must say with the panic hitting the rooftop there was no chance of anyone hearing anyone else out, even if it were an orchestra of elephants trumpeting out notes on the fullest volume possible its cacophony would not stir the eardrums.

When my head goes fuzzy with umpteen strands of crisis scenarios brewing in them I tend to let out steam in the most diabolical way imaginable. I sneeze! And with it the nasal passages are cleared and swept of their pea-green conglomeration of mucus, or as we Brits like to call it, the bogey! It is of course an act of great service to that part of the body that always seems to receive much less credit than it really ought to deserve. An unflattering filtration and venting system, the nose and its vertical caverns is a marvel of evolutionary invention and the beau to every handkerchief that ever was embroidered!

We need to make mischief stew!” I muttered to myself and then clicked my fingers and suddenly the pandemonium on the deck did not appear as bad and dire as it was at first. A solution, in the most literal sense of the word, had risen up in my nose and herein was our only chance at defeating that nasty ship over yonder!

As my anxiety inflated so did the pre-sneeze motions, it was growing bigger and bigger and bigger, and like a speeding dart, I jumped into my seat in the middle and stood up and clanged and clashed my sneakers against the control panel that was blatantly malfunctioning as above it many sparks were flickering on and off like a miniature fireworks display.

LADIES!” No one paid the slightest bit of attention to me since they were too busy racking their sizzled brains and fiddling with their individual panels, still somewhat assured that the right press of a button would release enough of something to weaken the annoyingly tight defences of the enemy vessel. I was about to repeat my addressing the team, “LA – “, when the compressed pressure stored at the top of my nose gave way and I blew HARD!

ACHOOOOOO!!” A gale force of nasal winds burst out of my nostrils, sending the draping locks of all my beautiful crew members to rise and fly and undulate as one would expect in a glamorous shampoo advert! But, what really caught everyone’s attention was the fact that not only dry winds exuded from these nostrils of mine, for with these fantastic winds came a superior inundation of green snot, some as hard as dried concrete, and others as gooey as semolina soup! I had only sneezed once, however, the contents of my nose decisively chose to divide out and splatter itself on the faces of each member of my crew. No one was spared! I had not bet on this outcome and shrugging my shoulders, breathlessly, sent everyone a sincere and apologetic smirk.

Sorry…” Silence fell in the room like a slab of stone into a bathtub of water.

No one moved a muscle. Would I be irreparably condemned by my peers for breaching decorum in the most disgustful manner ever possible? I gulped hard and tried to swallow and I do believe, since every ear-nose-throat specialist will avow – that traces of the snot mixture slid down my gullet! It was not nice, and I know that I do not need to say it in order for You to believe it!

Elsie stood up, her eyes not tearing away from my gaze, and my heart sank to see that her pretty fairy wreath on her head was mercilessly doused in my nasal fluids. I pursed my lips and screwed my eyes and wished that somebody could teleport me off this ship.

She raised her hands and then brought them today. CLAP! Oh my lord, she was clapping and then a most angelic smile gleamed off her face!

Emily stood up, and she clapped whilst wiggling her hips!

Gemma leapt off her seat and when she did a fat blob of bogey dripped off from her chin and slobbered down to the floor as if it were a gush spewed out by a waterfall! She began clapping, too!

Agnes pushed her chair back, wiped a wall of crusty snot off her eyelashes and then proceeded to clap before passing a wink at me!  

 Chiara shook her hair and bubbles of green slime flew all over the control panels in front of her, and then she raised her hands above her head and clapped in slow and emphatic beats. It was not a rock concert but her style of applause would have fooled You into believing that she was at the front row gawping and salivating at the sight of her favourite band!

Charlie thrust her chest forward, hands on her hips and putting on a remarkable Wonder Woman stance, she nodded decisively before bursting into strawberry giggles followed by a round of high frequent claps!

Kayleigh’s red hair had turned green, uniformly coated in my internal bacterial juices, and she flicked a ringlet of her curls with pride and with a reasserted stare clapped triumphantly!

Tasha went berserk! Oh, and yes, she did clap!

MISCHIEF STEW!” We shouted out loud and made a beeline to the nuclear reactor of our ship, a downward tunnel of metal whose lower echelons glowed in incandescent shimmering reminiscent of the northern lights. Stood all of us around the ring of the reactor tunnel, I pulled out of my pocket a tiny bottle of Amma’s ground black pepper and sumptuously opened the lid. All eyes were on me. My face peeped out a knowing smile which set alight a similar smile in my crew members. Dismissing the need for a countdown and without warning, I shook the bottle and the grainy contents spurted into the air like dust mites and hovering there for a while they came down and we let it stream down into our nasal passages.

Immediately our noses itched! Then they seriously itched! Our eyes flickered and the attacking sneeze reflex began quickly to build up and our tummies trembled, the body not knowing when it would eject the punchy blow.

But it happened and it happened at the same time, an orchestra without the auspices of a conductor, timed in perfection only thanks to the regularity of basic biology!

ACHOOOOOOOOOOO!” The catastrophic burst of green matter and energy expulsed out of our delicate noses and then shot down the vast cavity of the reactor tunnel, splicing through the fancy lights without any regard as like an outlawed vendetta of bogey fibres whose aim was to steal down that tunnel and cause havoc at the other end. Finally the bogey collected itself at the triangulation sensor that was towed to the end of the ship. An automated gizmo, when the bogey cargo made contact with the sensor board it was immediately jettisoned in the direction of the enemy vessel. A neon green line trailed the vacuum of silent space and we watched from the window, tense and admittedly unsure even to this point as to whether our bogey balls would be potent enough to bring down the machinery of our foul nemesis.

It seemed like forever.

What if they were armed with a counteractive measure?!

We waited and waited, and saw the line of pea-green approach the target closer and closer, and yet not close enough. I needed the loo, the suspense was surely worse than death!

Come on, come on…!” I think everyone said these words in their own way in those few dreary eternal seconds.

A purple cloud began to accumulate in the centre of the enemy vessel. A retaliating procedure was put into initiation. Would our bogey go to waste after all?

The purple patch grew deeper.

The green line edged closer.

The purple patch brightened up a notch before a hatch opened in its centre. The killer jelly was orientated into position.

I could not take it anymore. I wished to be out there and help push that bogey stream so that it reached its target quicker, for at present it was mimicking the race track records held by the average garden snail! Panic-stricken, I dug my hand into my pocket and pulled out the bottle of ground black pepper and sprinkled the remaining grains into the air and I ate it, I ate the air!

MAZZY!?” Elsie screamed. Everyone turned to me, open-eyed and grabbed me by the elbow. My eyes flickered rapidly and I began to suck the air through my mouth, haphazardly, while my nose plunged into the infernal itch I had ever encountered.

Sneeze, Mazzy, SNEEZE!” They were all actively provoking me to let the goods out of the bag!


The exceptional propulsion of the sneeze pushed me back against the wall and the entire ship accelerated forward and as it did the green bogey line in space was thrust magnificently onward before splattering against their ship. In moments the core electronics of the enemy vessel endured a massive energy failure before a cawing shriek of metal resounded, or so we thought, as in space it is common lore that sounds cannot travel through it. Sparks fizzed and small lightning bolts jabbed around the vessel like daggers controlled by invisible hands. I wanted to see what other contortions they would let us the pleasure of witnessing, however, it appeared that the cumulative bogey collections of prime Rebel Alliance fighters was too much bogey for one day and they must have chickened out, for they had vanished, shooting out of range thanks presumably to that little hyperdrive button. It was a most uncouth and vulgar and humiliating way to lose out on an interstellar arm wrestle! Squawk, squawk!

We fell on one another in relief! Laughing at our amazing victory, I acknowledged we had survived the lethality of what could have been our last battle and thanked my crew members from the heart.

Mazzy’s Rebel Alliance Crew, Recipe For Bogey Mischief Stew!

“… We fell on one another in relief! Laughing at our amazing victory…”

We need to celebrate and give our noses a well-earned break!” Elsie always came up with the most majestic ideas!

I cleared my throat and my eyes playfully hopped from face to face as I slowly made out the words, “Mos Eisley Cantina!


I sat on the captain’s seat and in my so-solid British accent instructed, “Set course for Mos Eisley and make it at the double!

Mazzy’s Rebel Alliance Crew, Recipe For Bogey Mischief Stew!

Set course for Mos Eisley and make it at the double!

When we arrived at Mos Eisely Cantina, bustling from wall to wall with Friday night revellers from all corners of the galaxy, we scooted into the ladies room first and with bog roll wiped away any last traces of nasal gunge and hid away our Rebel Alliance badges before enthusiastically queuing up at the bar. Cool jazz strummed through the cosy interior like honeysuckle dripping of music and we were ready to make a night of it!

What happened next was infinitely more dastardly than fighting any number of nasty anonymous alien enemies in the depths of uncharted space. My lips were unfathomably parched. Yes, I desired a cup of tea! But, oh my goodness, but! Had I known that the supreme beverage of tea was not served at the bar after 5pm I would have most definitely put a bogey-drenched sock in the mouths of those alien baddies a little sooner! Giggle, giggle! ♥♥♥ 


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


Bank Holiday Mega Fun: May The First!

My dearest and most scrumdidlyumptious Reader, if You are as gripped by fanatical lunacy as I am for our joint and imminent departure for the attendance of the extravagant annual interstellar celebrations held at the pro-pirate venue of Mos Eisley Cantina on Tatooine, then You have entered the right docking bay! Hurrah!

It gives me indescribable pleasure to tell You that my midget guru by the name of Yoda has entrusted me with a job with the calm confidence that I would respond to it with extreme keenness! As always, he is right! As I am the wackiest teacher in my department, known to wear odd sneakers and blazing jumpers just to make my students crack up with laughter, and not to mention of my no holds barred taste for theatrics, Yoda told me in the playground that I ought to apply my humble credentials to a more adventuresome use! He has asked me to counsel You on what to take in Your suitcase for the long and bumpy journey ahead – and for those of You with modified hyperdrives, be warned in Your assumption that the course You set will be achieved with straightforward ease. Rebel spies inform us that massive betel nut asteroids have appeared out of nowhere and are perilously orbiting the outer rim of the solar system in which Tatooine is located. First indications suggest that bandits of Asian aunties may be responsible for this grotesque vandalism of intergalactic airspace! Cheeky rowdy seniors, indeed!

Without much further ado, let me put on my dotty gardening gloves and trowel through my photographic archives! Ah, yes, this will do just fine! First up in our suggested baggage list is the most reliable form of terrestrial mobility one should have on their persons when tackling those uneven sand dunes of Tatooine, and thus I recommend You to acquire a decent and well-oiled FARMYARD TRACTOR! Oh now, now, do not be put off by its dinosaur proportions, I am sure You will solve this, ahem ahem, slight issue of how to fit it into Your suitcase! If there is a symptomatic wailing of despair from Your throat it is all down to the fact that Your mind is too pernickety! Honestly, throwing up a fuss over a trivial a matter as that of size incompatibility would put both Your mumsy and the pet goldfish to shame!  How difficult can it be to squash those four tyres into your hand luggage?! Now, enough of that sniffling! Oh my lord, is that a green bogey or Jabba’s bottom that just dripped down from Your nose?!

May the Force be with You!
Red Leader 15, Mazzy ♥♥♥


Christmas Month Puzzle Box 7: On The Matter Of Meeting Majnun’s Deer!

“… the most reliable form of terrestrial mobility one should have on their persons when tackling those uneven sand dunes of Tatooine, and thus I recommend You to acquire a decent and well-oiled FARMYARD TRACTOR…


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

Jump(er) To Hyperspace: A Vortex Of Light!

Now, I do have a few specks of pragmatic dust mites in my brain to be able to graciously and humbly accept that in my lifetime it would be a megalithic miracle for the opportunity for space travel to come my way, however, the goblins of the realistic world have yet to forge a restraining order on my imaginative faculties, this nifty gift is highly advanced  of mine and has taken me as far as the other side of the Universe! An armchair, a pen and paper and soon enough I can transform myself into a pirate pilot manoeuvring impossible high-speed slants and dashes and dodges in deepest space whilst giving the itchy laser-blasting TIE fighters of the ever snooty Imperial authorities a proper run for their money! Ha ha!

Since England is in the grip of a ferocious storm at the moment and I have some time to spare today, while my baby sister is listening to old-school vinyl music and painting away, I am poring over old star charts, fiddling with my planisphere and learning more about the fireflies of constellations of the northern hemisphere, especially paying acute attention to the myths and legends that have delightfully added a mystical strata to otherwise dry scientific fact. The skies over England are variable in cloud cover at night so stargazing is a bit of a tricky proposition at the moment, however, I am noting down potential dates for clearer expeditions of the heavens using my trusty telescope and am particularly drawn to identifying, this time, the spectacular static dance sprays of a few favourite nebulas and perhaps even the scoot through the Bootes (The Herdsman) constellation that is being voyaged through by Comet Catalina as we speak! Ahem, ahem, I do apologise for the lavish bubbles of geeky enthusiasm in my words, it is known to subvert non-initiates of the Astronomical world to lose their own co-ordinates! I do apologise sincerely! Giggle, giggle!

Before I make a dash back to the study room I should like to leave You with a cheeky photograph that I took this morning in my garden – the site of the majority of my interstellar spy activities – wherein You shall see yet another telescope in my collection, kindly gifted to me by my adorable star fighter brother, Sambo, and leaning on it is the second Christmas present I received from my film buff brother, Ab, who is a rather clever chap, for he always knows how to appease my tomboy inclinations! Lipstick and shoes and bags do it for some women. My boys know that is not how I tick!

What makes me tick? What is my cup of tea, so to speak? 

A Haynes operational manual detailing the anatomy of the most famous Modified YT-1300 Corellian Freighter, The Millennium Falcon, whose metallic flower-head main sensor antenna fizzles my eyes with enough carbonated joy that if I could I would stand up on the world’s stage and announce to everyone that those cruddy Smartphones may come installed with the capacity to send signals but they have not a clue in the world how to do it in a style that defies time and space with whizpopping panache!

Seconds away from signing out from the dismal 2D universe of the virtual plane, but turning around just before I casually push the salon doors open in the cramped Mos Eisely Cantina, I ask thee, Dear You, are You ready to jump(er) to hyperspace with me…?  ♥♥♥



Jump(er) To Hyperspace: A Vortext Of Light!

“I ask thee, Dear You, are You ready to jump(er) to hyperspace with me…?”


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


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:


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:


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


The Force Is Strong In My Family: A Comic Convention! EPISODE II

Dearest Reader & Mr You ♥ 

The pleasure centres of my nerdy brain were so immensely gratified by the creation of my flashy comic book tribute to Star Wars that after returning from my teaching duties tonight I simply could not resist! Yes, my beloved Reader, I adopted a full-steam ahead mentality and gave in to my delectable temptation to rustle up yet another cover, starring my rocket fuel in human form – my nephew Zack – as the star attraction! I know You indulged in a hearty giggle with the first edition so surely a second offering will be indubitably proficient in putting the hugest of stars in Your eyes!

I include some A-MAZ-ING breaking news, just released from over the pond. A few hours ago Entertainment Weekly announced that it will be publishing collector’s edition covers lovingly dedicated to the new film and have included to mention that first glimpses of exclusive photography of some of the primary characters will be contained within. And, if You WATCH the video at the top of their page You will find it a difficult challenge to avert Your eyes away from the background WALL, for it bears the name of my most treasured and brightest star, Sirius. I love to A-MAZ-E You… ♥

Oh, and by the way, when my Eyes had wondered off to that beautiful wall in Birmingham Library, it was unlike the chap in the video since both my feet had shoes on at the time, yet I still request that You do not call him STUPID, it is the way of us geeks to behave in this wibbly-wobbly manner… :)) :)) :))

True Love is the Force by which my WORDS come alive!
Your Mazzy xxx


The Force Is Strong In My Family: A Comic Convention! EPISODE II

“I know You loved the first edition so surely a second offering will be indubitably proficient in putting the hugest of stars in Your eyes…!”

Photography, Comic Design & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Birmingham | Midlands | UK 2015

Travelling Light Years With My Telescope!

A white classic of optics, my TAL pal is Russian without a six-pack
We are the spy of the stars, quiet gypsies travelling umpteen light years back
Achromatic refractor, the fruits of scholars Netherland today vigil in my hands
I wonder if You’re spying on me too – yes You – from distant Tatooine sands…

EPILOGUE:  On October 24th 1982 a pioneering sci-film was aired on British television that would go on to make ground-breaking cinematic history. It does not matter if You are not a fan, You will have guessed it right anyway: STAR WARS: A NEW HOPE! In terms of my own evolving story, this was to be the single fundamental experience that sealed my Destiny with the field of astronomy forever. A love affair sparked to life, and soon afterwards my bookshelves were brilliantly filled to the summit with texts and manuals on the subject. To my Amma’s (Mother) prickly annoyance, the walls of my bedroom were not spared, they were outspokenly embellished with star charts and film posters of every space movie to grace our screens! My watch, my lunchbox and flask, my pencils and pens, my t-shirts were all conscripted into the Alliance! While other little girls were playing with their dolls and concerned themselves with dresses and make-up – perfectly nice things of course – I was far more at ease camping out in the garden with my arcane interstellar charts, looking up at the stars… :))


Travelling Light Years With My Telescope!

“… Achromatic refractor, the fruits of scholars Netherland today vigil in my hands
I wonder if You’re spying on me too – yes You – from distant Tatooine sands… “

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

Jen & Mazzy WOZ here :))

Ah, where did ‘Jen Jens’ and I voyage to carve such a grammatically incorrect post
You’re counting on me saying ‘We stomped to the coast!’
But that’s not quite the answer, shall I tell You where?
Why on the sand dunes of Tatooine – nope, ‘tis a lie I declare!
The actual location was on a sand dune on red ball Mars
How delightful a terrain, no carbon monoxide from cars
We signed both our names topped with a double-crescent smile
Click on SETI’s link below to see the treasure we hid on this Nile
It is a burial site indeed but cast out presumptions of death if You will
My hands gift an EGG, potent symbol of Life and a gesture of goodwill
Did I not write in the poem before of rising once more from the ashes of spiritual death
Behold the Universe, my harp of harmony, echoing my every breath….

EPILOGUE & BREAKING NEWS: In my previous blog post I examined the notion that for each of us to grow into a more authentic and wholesome human being our spirits must encounter a death-before-death, the uncomfortable but critical passageway to a Life renewed in wisdom and strength. Analogous to the triumphant crescendo of the moment a phoenix rises from the ashes, our highest form is only reachable after plumbing the lowest depths of darkness, an existential grave that comes to us as a classroom in which there is buried the promise of new Life. Read how SETI have just discovered today an intriguing Egg buried within its ancient SEA of sand dunes. I do relish how the name by the ‘Image Credit’ field makes an amusing reference to my magical powers! Giggle, giggle…  :))


Jen & Mazzy WOZ here :))

“… We signed both our names topped with a double-crescent smile
Click on SETI’s link below to see the treasure we hid on this Nile…”


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

Love And Light

In our Special E(i)d art class a theatrical lady of rhapsodic epic talent
Wished to transmit a message to You therefore stop, listen, be silent!
Nothing is more beautiful than Love that has weathered the storms of Life
Hearts whose cavities are built on Faith, to withstand attack and strife
Even solar winds are no match against the Light inside my heart and Yours
Deflection proffered on us thanks to bending of Universal laws
And today, behold, New Horizons proved my premonitions right
Oh how indebted I am to Destiny to bless me with the Gift of Sight
Click or copy on the link below, let your voice turn to speechless awe
As You watch the tail – sorry – tale of our Love shoot out from the back door!
Composed of iconic-ionic bonds that will trail infinitely into Space
True Love is a strange thing indeed yet Ours will never erase
And if You turn NASA’s page vertical You will see my face on this blessed Eid night
Skin the midnight blue of Krishna, a veil stitched of the reddest Light…

BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS – BREAKING NEWS: A very special Message from NASA’s New Horizons project that neatly proves that nothing is more beautiful than Love that has weathered the storms of Life! If you are particularly imaginative you might also pick up an interesting signal providing you turn your screen around: An intriguing self-portrait of me in a veiled form with ripples of a ‘third eye’ on my forehead. Oh now, do stop giggling – or, are you on the contrary smiling and bereft of words… :))


Love & Light

“… Nothing is more beautiful than Love that has weathered the storms of Life
Hearts whose cavities are built on Faith, to withstand attack and strife…”

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

O-Range Vision!

Ladies and gentlemen and dear little ones – which includes aged hobbits and the butter-fingered borrowing Clock family – you did not possibly expect me to stay hushed on the subject of the 8th dimensionality matrix of the space-time continuum, the one where that very brainy chap with the fuzzy hair and redwood pipe was so close to announcing but did not quite get round to it?! Well, it is strongly advised at this point that you put the kettle on and take a seat for I am about to deliver a crash course on the topic and a landing mat – inclusive – since even I must pull the reign on my naughty ways sometimes and let not mysteries brew for too long!

Okay, so you have not complied with the aforementioned instructions for preparing the tea but I am of concrete conviction that at a time later in the day when you do bubble up the water and take occupation of that seat your thoughts will return to my words and I suppose a smile and a “Damn her, how does she do it?!” exclamation may just be bellowed below under the breath. Oh come, come, you know you love it!

Right! 8th dimensionality! Shove the rocket science under the carpet because it really is not as incomprehensible as you might think. Look at the clock on the wall and fix your eyes on the number ‘8’. Poised like an hour glass beauty or indeed a deserted snowman whose arms have been filched and hat blown away by the wind but, today, I am not interested in the stories that flow from its vertical pose. I would like you, if you will, knock the snowman over on his side. Ah, now what do we have here? The infinity sign or, if your mind has the proclivity for more sensual imaginations then you may very well see two snakes coiled together and making passionate love. Either way, both are perfectly recognisable in the symbol. There is another meaning – isn’t there always!? It is the one that I humbly offer you in the photograph with zesty anticipation that you should regard it with a twitch of amusement but not without the impression that you have received a slight poking into your existing beliefs about the dimensional patchwork of our universe.  The dimension to which I wish to bring your attention to is the dimension of VISIONS. Turn an ‘8’ on its side and we have a pair of eyes or binoculars and I do not mean the eyes and optical aids that you see around you in the everyday world. The sort of vision in question is quite a special one that everyone on earth who has ever lived had at one time or another the power to wield. Young children and Zen Buddhists, for example are masters of this channel of Sight because of the purity that glows untainted in their hearts.

It is a sensory faculty governed by a deep connection to the spiritual pulse of the universe and those that possess it will always surely transform their gift to bring happiness into the world. Eyes beyond eyes, this dimension of vision pays no heed to the existing laws of physics, enabling Sight that can travel through the matter of the flesh and peek into the souls of people. In other instances, such eyes can reflect the healing rays of sunshine that enters into it, sending them back out onto those that need the caress of Light in their own lives. Ultimately, it has the power to bring hateful hearts together, to unify nations, to bring peace to a soul torn by the torment of unseen storms. I, thus, in keeping with my rebelliously sunny disposition, have crowned this magical phenomenon ‘O-Range Vision’. Dear reader, I do sense that you shall never ever be able to see oranges in the same way again. Look at me, I cannot refrain myself from smiling to myself! It is as if I have sneaked into the classroom of your soul and rewritten the routine strings of formulae that used to hang heavy on your blackboard. Change should be welcomed now and again in life!

So, there you have it! The 8th dimensionality matrix and there within the property of O-Range Vision! To consolidate my words with a juicy slice of photographic evidence, I provide below a very elegant case of O-Range Visioning at work! One of the prime signs of someone who has been taken under the care of an O-Range Vision practitioner is that they will show what will appear as the strange pursing and puckering of the lips almost identical to when one bites into a very sharp segment of orange! You would think that the person has lost all their teeth to produce such an effect of the tight joining of the lips! Fear not, it is only the seal of orangey eyes at their business!

O-Range Vision!

“One of the prime signs of someone who has been taken under the care of an O-Range Vision practitioner is that they will show what will appear as the strange pursing and puckering of the lips almost identical to when one bites into a very sharp segment of orange…!”


Before I put my quill down on the table I ought to clarify that in nearly all circumstances, the services of an O-Range Vision soul is never forced upon anyone. We are summoned by the person and by that part of their heart that wishes to remember that they too once had the gift to make the world a happier and magical place…


Why, just look at that! That nefarious crooked witch of burdensome vanity ‘Baba Yaga’, albeit donned in her best, has her lips tightly pursed too but there is still so much work that needs to be done in her heart. Baba Yaga, do not worry yourself into a prune my dear, I have not given up on you just yet…!        



Photograph & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | UK 2014

Making Time With Tea And A Loved One

What a miserable old wretch Time must feel to have had not a moment’s rest since the big pop that took place right at the beginning of our universe. Cloaked in the most premium variety of invisibility on offer in the souk of physics, our predilection is to think that our masked crusader’s methods are responsible for our actions. Take the classic phenomenon of the beastly cities, ‘the rush hour’, for instance. The hurried dispatch of racing feet in Waterloo station between the dreaded hour of five and six, vicious enough to bulldoze an uninitiated little country girl like myself, is in fact a most distraught state of Time and he tells me so – time and time again – through the din of anxious faces and shoulder collisions, “Mazzy, why do they have to all make me feel so insufficient, as if there is not enough of me at all!” Oh, and then there is the matter of ghastly timed exams in our schools and colleges. How many times have I witnessed the sad case of the three hour test that woefully transmogrified the friendly Art teacher into a steely-eyed, mechanically-whirring invigilator marching silently down the aisle of desks with an abnormal sense of duty to catch someone out! Again, Time protests to me, “Why do they have to section me like this, Mazzy? How awful to gaze upon so many young faces sickened with needless worry all because they have been told that they are up against me, the odious clock?!”

Oh my heart is with you, Time. All alone and gravely overworked, I shall never be able to get my head round how you have coped for so long and without a companion to hold the slavish ticking hands of your clock face.

I cannot say on the behalf of the world but, there is a way I have found to soothe you, Mr Time, momentarily at the least. It sounds terribly trifle and sloppily silly but I am in possession of photographic evidence to support my wildish claims. The answer, a very British one if ever there was any, is to simply drink tea with a loved one. Permitting a ‘time out’ from the chaotic symphonies of the world to immerse in tea drinking with someone special is a wonderful gift that should be indulged in more often and each time you do so you are actually doing ‘make time’. You make so much of it that Time begins to feel pleasantly fat and wholesome like a child who has eaten umpteen slices of the richest gooiest chocolate cake! The belly has protruded out so far that the child no longer wants to run but stroll slowly or even may wish to come to a standstill! Sometimes, the tea and banter grows spellbindingly hypnotic that Time is forgotten altogether. To Time, those moments are like nuggets of gold glowing in the lake of the universe and he will often turn around with a smile and whisper in my ear, “Ah, the peace and solitude of having two less people wriggling under my watch!”


Making Time

“… Sometimes, the tea and banter grows spellbindingly hypnotic that Time is forgotten altogether. To Time, those moments are like nuggets of gold glowing in the lake of the universe…”


So I took it upon myself a very long time ago that I would do my best to help my friend, Time, out. A solid advocate for the priceless remedies to be gained from the ritual of tea drinking with a loved one – and even better if a slice of cake is thrown in for good measure – whenever my heart makes room for such opportunities I know in the back of my mind that I will be making Time rather than trying to beat it. He knows my face very well by now, dear reader, because I cannot help but drink lots of cups of tea in a day. Sat there with my book and pen, he takes a well-deserved seat too and smiles widely although, I sigh affectionately as I say this, I have warned him that too much of that kind of flirty shenanigans with me and we can have a nasty rip in the fabric of space-time continuum…!


Photograph and Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | UK 2014