We Prefer To Act Our Shoe Size! [UK SIZE 4/European 37]

Stripping off our Hagrid winter coats, with marmalade eyes we opened a classic book
Inside the shop we read aloud in front of an audience who cared to look
Words penned by a Doctor but not the usual one that stomps in status and charges a lot
He was a writer like me, eccentric and rhymer, riding altogether an alternative train of thought!
It was the one book, of clever word play, that we chose in the entire collection to read
And my sixth sense foretold me that this particular page that tells of succeed
Was the one to photograph, for it would inspire ‘Someone’ and whose tread has begun on a long journey
His Faith quivers at times I can sense, a quill in the wind, thus concern is he
And those numbers that You gaze across pages of green, not are they shoe sizes or our age
But they are my calling to You, chip those mutinous mountains in front, to crowbar that shadowy cage
Mark the words of this golden storyteller, whose Voice echoes with the triumph of an eternal Mother set free
37 is indeed my age and quotes of the same number I gift to thee… ♥♥♥

LINK: http://brightdrops.com/dr-seuss-quotes

 

We Prefer To Act Our Shoe Size!

“… Mark the words of this golden storyteller, whose Voice echoes with the triumph of an eternal Mother set free; 37 is indeed my age and quotes of the same number I gift to thee… “

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

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Christmas Month Puzzle Box 15: On The Matter Of The Awesome Proton Beam Retaliation Against L’Oréal’s “You’re Worth it!” Campaign!

The sumptuously thick pastries of mince pies dusted with minute sprinkles of sugar glistened before us as did the seductive aroma of freshly siphoned mulled wine laced with its conjugal slice of citrus heaven – a smile of soaked orange – and I was made to feel like I had touched the first clouds of festive heaven because after a very long time I was in the company of two of my very, merry, berry best friends! Christmas time is a roost of a goldmine in my eyes, not for the presents or the shopping frenzy, but for the delicious imminence of reunions and when such meetings occur, especially if they have been agonisingly overdue, anyone looking upon our gatherings will inevitably conclude that they have been quite generously blessed to witness a hobbitina – yes, that would be me – wildly dancing in the throes of jumping joyfulness, as if I had stumbled across the greatest treasure ever come into possession! I love to bring friends together, to catch-up on time that has passed without having seen each other, to share interesting and funny and tender stories with the edifying licence of facial and gestural trimmings that no amount of social media could ever replicate.

So, let me tell You of who I had the ineffable pleasure of hanging out with in the last few days!

You have met Agnes before in my previous stories where we diligently and excitedly explored islands beyond the mainland of England. A Polish beauty in heart, a linguist in aspiration and a face as adorably radiant so as to comply beyond satisfactory levels with the stringent prerequisites of cuteness required by all of Santa’s elfin helpers! Giggle, giggle!

My other very good friend is Chiara who grew up in Michigan and is of German heritage. Since she has lived in America for most of her life, her definition of the word “naughty” was obviously more saucy and bawdy than the more child-friendly original that we British have preserved, hence every time I used the word in her presence – which is very common for a teacher of course –  she would lift an eyebrow worryingly, and only the Lord Almighty knows what thoughts of deepest concern must have shaken her from within to see a respectable lady like myself on occasion blurt out a word that is highly rude in the rudimentary ears of an American! Giggle, giggle! Thankfully, she trusted me enough to muster up a vortex of courage to investigate further what on earth was going on in my head. I laughed out so loud when she told me of her hilarious confusions that I had to make a rapid beeline for the loo! My bladder duties were on the verge of its biggest compromise but I managed to recompose myself, and thus I began to infuse her on the matter of how this particular word had an altogether more harmless meaning within the kingdom of British vocabulary! Whenever we now meet the first thing I say with proud affirmation, as if announcing the battle cry to advance troops to a newly opened shop dedicated to the selling of Haribos is, “Chiara, you have been a very naughty girl!” She giggles and blushes and obliges me oh so neatly by agreeing that she has indeed been a naughty poppet! It is all classic humour between us girls and I do not think that it will ever fade away, even in the days when we will be sprouting silvery hairs on our head and whizzing round the streets with our granny trolleys loaded with our respective granddad husbands! Giggle, giggle!

As You can gather by now we three ladies are endowed with the force-field prowess to deflect the gremlins of dullness from any party suffering from the hex of boredom, simply put, we know how to create shenanigans that lift the spirits and re-paint smiles on faces that have become close to forgetting what such a thing is! Tonight I offer such a sassy portrait of my two beloved chums, with a sleight of hand element thrown in for good measure and I am sure that by now You will want to know eagerly what I mean by that!

Since I am of tomboy construction, one of the most irritating adverts that plummets my telly now and again into a self-destructive buckling up and sizzle is that of the notoriously hideous L’Oréal hair product campaign. Celebrity women with CGI hair and CGI face paste the screen with their locks claiming that the brand could make Your hair look like something that (unfortunately) came out of the Disney windpipe! Hideous and enormously sleep-inducing, my inventive mind wished to combat the sulphuric acidity of these promotions of ultimate deception, deceivingly storm-trooped out of the Dark Side of the West’s capitalistic nature.

From under my sleeve I whip out a comical twist of my own!

Do not let a pink shampoo bottle decide whether “You are worth it!” – or not, for that matter! In other words, dear Reader, do not let the ownership of any sort of external material object become the barometer by which You judge whether You are a worthy giant, human or hobbit. I might have saved money, day and night, for a new camera, yet do not for a second be fooled into assuming that my identity and status rests with this device. It does not. I can live without it. But I cannot live without my imagination.
The things in life that ought to matter are the things that are invested with the magical persistence to exist as echoes in the river of eternity. That which can be packaged or price-tagged and for which the men and women of this world are willing to plunder and ambush are the fleeting illusions of a floating world. Their worth is defined on the competitive plane and the Soul does not speak such a language.

Love and Friendship, two very modestly small words but when they find You in life they angelically remould the world so that it grows inwards, a slow imploding blossom, comfortably smaller, a world whose borders are canvased by the person or people in front of You. I have Faith that You shall see the integrity of these thoughts of mine brilliantly captured in the photograph that I present to You, where the smooth, flowing locks of these maiden friends of mine send out a cheeky but noble proton beam of retaliation against the monster machine of corporative bewitchment, a gentle bit of advertising on our part that sparkles with defiance the message that some things in this short life of ours are worth the battle because, at the end of Eternity, they are “worth it”… ♥♥♥

LINK [Chewie Rallies To Our Cause!]: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_U9fEv1ld8A

Christmas Month Puzzle Box 15: On The Matter Of The Awesome Proton Beam Retaliation Against L’Oréal’s “You’re Worth it!” Campaign!

“… Love and Friendship, two very modestly small words but when they find You in life they angelically remould the world so that it grows inwards, a slow imploding blossom, comfortably smaller, a world whose borders are canvased by the person or people in front of You…”


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

Kiosk No 6 Red Telephone Box: Winchester’s TARDIS To The Rescue!

My detective mate, the vertically blessed, Miss Beth and I received a distress call
Triangulated its source to a hidden chamber masked behind a fortified wall
Gales incoming, storms scheming, hastened our feet to Kiosk No 6
Unassuming red box of England past, proclivity towards a line of bricks
Beth, we can’t waste a moment, the Doctor’s in a hurry, this impediment we must lift!
My Bantam might have done the trick but where he is there’s no such gift
Mazzy, what do you suppose we do know, what number must we dial?
Confidently I explained to her, “This mission requires my tomboy style!
Determinedly we turned our heads in synchronised step to face the door of the red box
The square root of my birthday divided by hers and then we pulled up our respective socks
To pep us up as we opened the door, ready to punch in the resultant numbers
A blast of cool air hit our face, refreshing as like fresh cucumbers
Oh Doctor, be it the jungles of South America or in New Zealand’s rolling hill
This tomboy polymath shall get You out of there, just look out of the windowsill
And should You see a red box in the sky, spinning towards Your way
Take my name – a piece of MEERA – and catch the morning sun’s bright ray
The corridor has not run out for You and life has not been summed up
You and I still have a date, O Doctor, romance in a teacup…  ♥♥♥ 

LINK: https://www.facebook.com/DoctorWho/photos/pcb.1249296421751049/1249295161751175/?type=3&theater

Kiosk No 6 Red Telephone Box: Winchester’s TARDIS To The Rescue!

“My detective mate, the vertically blessed, Miss Beth and I received a distress call Triangulated its source to a hidden chamber masked behind a fortified wall…”


Kiosk No 6 Red Telephone Box: Winchester’s TARDIS To The Rescue!

“Mazzy, what do you suppose we do know, what number must we dial?” Confidently I explained to her, “This mission requires my tomboy style!”

 

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

 

 

An Interview With Mr Rayyan By Aunty Mazzy Rey!

My Dearest Reader & Mr Fuzzy Brain ♥ 

I cannot convey to you in any shape or form the immensity of the giggles that I let out of my tuning pipes in creating this piece of cheeky tribute to one very fine young chap and to a publication that I – yes – I of three and seven years, am contagiously glued to and will even secretly dive into in between classes! It makes for an eye-opening read and it tends to be that by the time I have reached the end of an article my toes are willing to give testimony that they have, with miraculous dexterity, travelled to deepest and darkest Peru or have found themselves awed by the spell of breathtaking panoramas privileged inside the bosom of a golden African safari. In the simplest of terms, I have combined two loves together and hatched this delicious plot! Wherever You are, I sincerely hope my little gift will pour a giggle in Your throat and remind You that extravagant stories can be fruited in the most ordinary of settings, it simply asks for Your imagination… :)) :)) :))

TEACHER’S HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT: Pick any little hobbit in Your family and compose an adorable but insightful article about them. It is a magnificent way of putting Yourself in the muddy shoes of a child! Giggle, giggle!

Enough said! Whip out Your Admiral Telescopes folks, time for a NAT GEO Special… ♥

May the Force be with You – but I dare say may it be not propelled by the bottom of a charging black rhino! 
Your dimpled Ray of Light, Mazzy xxx

An Interview With Mr Rayyan

“Enough said! Whip out Your Admiral Telescopes folks, time for a NAT GEO Special…!”

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

The Fugitive Of Your Desire

An A-MAZ-ING Afterword To my consistently attentive Reader – and Mr You ♥ 

If You are in England or Europe tonight – or have the highly suspect capacity to intercept British airwaves from another part of the planet – then You are in for a lavish treat of intergalactic significance! The BBC have revealed that tonight in aid of our Nation’s most beloved charity – CHILDREN IN NEED – as touchingly symbolised by Pudsey, the yellow TEDdy bear with one eye, Dr Watson of Sherlock fame will attempt to emulate the ways of the Force, the Jedi Mind Trick to be precise, to detect my exact whereabouts! Giggle, giggle! I provide the link below!

A hearty thank you to Destiny for listening to the Voice of my Words and recruiting the services of the BBC to bring them to life, all so for a very GOOD cause that brings New Hope to the most fabulous people on earth, the Children… ♥

Watson, I admire You more than ever for Your never walking away from a Great Puzzle!
Eternally Your Mazzy xxx

LINK: http://www.radiotimes.com/news/2015-11-13/martin-freeman-feels-the-force-in-star-wars-children-in-need-sketch

I am the scientist’s enigma and the religious man’s quandary
I paint over white shirts, their staidness unresolved by laundry
Always behind You and yet one step ahead
Crumbling the Ego to cluck as like a Rhode Island Red
Premonitions are my faculty, after all it is a kind of remembering
Remembering from the future, why, is Your Logic dismembering?
And such is my finesse – I wear a smug grin as I lean back to sip my tea
All the while, two daring detectives, are no where near to catching me…

P.S. Study the note carefully, it shall be of extreme significance at a later date… ♥

The Fugitive Of Your Desire..

“And such is my finesse – I wear a smug grin as I lean back to sip my tea
All the while, two daring detectives, are no where near to catching me…!”

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

Reaching The Light Bulb Moment – An Extremely Cheeky Quip!

Ah, You are still unable to see me with Your eyes! Oh my, You ought to have grasped the reality of the situation by now which is that my concealability is not down to the fact that I am hidden inside the Mystery Box and You are not. Far from it my devoted Reader! The singular reason for my apparent invisibility is of a rather trivial stock if ever there was one and that is that You are in here with me too, but, to my great amusement, the knowledge has yet to reach You that You need to, ahem ahem, reach a little higher to press the Light Switch… :)) :)) :))

“… You are in here with me too, but, to my great amusement, the knowledge has yet to reach You that You need to, ahem ahem, reach a little higher to press the Light Switch…”

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

The White Rabbit And The Dubious Case Of The Coronet Box Camera

Dear Puddle-Soaked Soggy-Socked Fisherman & Other Curious Readers – including flatulent foxes!

I do hope You will be accommodating enough in heart to accept my apologies for the sparse buttering of posts from me in recent times, I am skipping and hopping in between holiday activities and creative projects that have proved to be quite fine effectors of completely removing me from the virtual world whilst I get my grubby fingers stuck into the theatrical business of the real world! I had no sought-out intention to sit by the computer at this moment but perhaps it was You who has made an impassionate call for my services as a disperser and dispenser of Good Magic that finds me in front of this glaring big old screen! Giggle, giggle! I do promise to return at a more consistent and regular rate once I have tied up what needs finishing – please quit rolling those squishy eyeballs, a passer-by may construe it as a first sign of irreversible lunacy! What did You say? You are in Love with me and my pen and that this sweet illness of lunacy had struck You so far way back that it has now come to the point where any external expletive charged against You by third parties is as afflicting as a speck of dust on skin?! Oh my, steady, steady my dear fellow! 

Before I return to my adventurous taskettes and leave the virtual platform once more – a short while I promise – I have once again received a blessing from Destiny in which I shall present to You a story of stupendously magical proportions. Whilst I was traipsing from one place to another today I heard the distinct sound of SLEIGH BELLS in the air. I know many of You will in an instant assume that I am making this up but that does not bother me the slightest, the day I asserted that one of my spiritual vocations would be to don the cloak of the Writer I knew that I would always write not because I was haunted by an obsession to appease others, rather, it came down to the fact that I HAD to write, on par in force with the natural instinct of breathing.  

Ahem ahem, where was I?

Ah, yes, I was walking along when suddenly the pure and sacred music of sleigh bells trilled into my ears. I stood on the street and looked about but could not locate the source of this exquisite and invisible treat. Who had played it to me and for reasons why? The Winchester Christmas season had not yet taken effect and I was at quite a distance away from the cacophony of the city centre so the MYSTERY of it all firmly latched onto my lungs and I soon turned into a mobile vessel of internal monologue, legs walking in auto-pilot, however, the brain completely seized and captivated by what it had just experienced. I prayed to Allah that He would help me to solve the case of the curious bells and it was upon reaching home just now and switching on the computer that it all became as gloriously clear as a relieved blackboard taking in the peace and quiet during the school holidays! Stop laughing! 

Do You remember the a-MAZ-ing gift of magical synchronicity I sent You in my last missive where my earlier poetical words came to spectacular life on the bustling streets of NYC and to everyone’s astonishment? Disney’s Aladdin hovering over fast lanes, shoving out of the way all those fancy ‘boxes with circles’ – I mean to say fast cars but to me they appear like polygons on the rampage!

Guess what?

I have the pleasure of gifting You once again the fabulous eye-opening convergence between my WORDS and real-world events!

A ‘LONG-LOST FRIEND’ of mine in the joyful grip of a winter wonderland, thought to have died into the cold shadows of perpetual forgetfulness, has been found and shall return to the big screen in a premier here in London! His stone statue lives in the treasure troves of my garden, he is the time-keeper in a book that shall never be tossed into the fires of callous extinction, a tea-coaster paints a Paradisiacal portrait of his visage that sits on my bookshelf and I do think I am right when I say that the Tanner’s Magic Shop chose him as their proud mascot! I sincerely hope You have not endangered Yourself into my calling You an utter muttonhead if You happen to be at this moment confounded by these clues as to the identity of my LONG-LOST FRIEND! Yes yes, it’s MR RABBIT! Pfffshhht!!

WATCH how inside an ordinary tin can, a mystery box of sorts, sat in a film library in London, sweeps You off Your feet to a place as OLDEN-AS-THE HILLS, A VAST SNOWY LANDSCAPE, where Oz-World – so sorry – Oswald the Rabbit, Disney’s first ever creation, WHIZZES around with the essence of a free spirit on his heels!

Ah, what was that You muttered? He is not white, You say? Seriously my Dear Watson, Your frivolities of the mind are indeed most disappointing! In the temperate climate of Hampshire where I live there really is no need for a rabbit to be wearing a black JUMPER!

With my knuckles tucked under my chin, I am lost in reverie as light as marshmallows and I ask out to Destiny: Could it have been Oz-World the Rabbit, the Lucky & Magical, who aired the first ever balloon to sit on my rosy ALTAR OF RED BALLOONS… ♥ 

Please take care of each other and, to a few I can see out there, cut out the bog-standard swearing and, to immediate effect, conjure cleaner but more inventive forms of language. If anything it will prevent a premature onset of dementia! 

Your Eternal Entanglement Of The Quantum Kid – sorry – Kind! 
Mazzy xxx

LINK TO ANOTHER A-MAZ-ING VIDEO: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-34711495

White Rabbit, White Rabbit what olden, old-as-the-hills secret thou keep in thy Coronet Box?
Pray tell me not of the commonplace, answer me with the cunning of the sly fox!
I, Alice, felt at this point my arbitration was urged and necessary
Hereby, my Beloved Reader, I distil a riddles apothecary:

Shrewdness no prerequisite, the young are the wise yet with age there is no guarantee
Those of worldly chores suffer, lukewarm never is the Eccentric’s tea
Puddles are as souls who reach heaven by the steps of my apple tree
Poetry tastes like Mother’s ghee, us Visionaries will unanimously agree
This thing, a bonfire of Aliveness, like fireflies whizzes within but is most certainly free
Can You guess what it is, do not hide, come closer and tell me what You see… 

White Rabbit, White Rabbit what olden, old-as-the-hills secret thou keep in thy Coronet Box?
Pray tell me not of the commonplace, answer me with the cunning of the sly fox!

The White Rabbit And The Dubious Case Of The Coronet Box Camera 1

“White Rabbit, White Rabbit what olden, old-as-the-hills secret thou keep in thy Coronet Box?
Pray tell me not of the commonplace, answer me with the cunning of the sly fox…”

The White Rabbit And The Dubious Case Of The Coronet Box Camera 2

“… Puddles are as souls who reach heaven by the steps of my apple tree…”

 

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

Autumn Rain Was Made For Books!

Date: 22-10-15, One month since original post

An Editor’s Note To My ‘Dear Friend’ !

Do You know what the definition of the word ‘enantiodromia’ is?  I strongly suspect that the chances are that You are a novice here, never having heard of it and will certainly not have encountered it even in Your most wildest dreams. Allow me to relieve Your frictioned nerves at this point with the application of the cooling balm of the enlightening answer. Exotic and mysterious to the ears and lips, the word refers to those things that steer in opposite directions, where it becomes so that clockwise is entrancingly paired with the counter-clockwise. I shall further clarify this gift of a new word by citing iconic instances that exemplify it, with necessary succinctness, and these include the Forces of Light and Dark, Good and Bad, Masculine and Feminine, Fortune and Misfortune, Ice and Fire.

And of what significance do my words carry here, Dear Detective?

There is much. You and I propagate two Visions of the world, whose umbilical mission is to depict the great dichotomy of the human condition, its perplexing extremes and astonishing polarities but whose unifying commitment is always the soul-driven quest to ignite the flame of Hope once more into the hearts of our readers so that they may be inspired to become stewards of Good Magic; looking after the world one person at a time, starting with that greatest of barriers – themselves.

While You utilise Your brave and noble moral foundation to primarily present the darker, shadier and tragic stories, it is in the flash of a proton dance the gears of Destiny come to life to propel my pen to take on the role as Your enantiodromia, fulfilling completion by counterbalancing what has been laid down by You with my contribution of tales and poetry from the lighter, brighter and triumphant layer extracted from my own plethora of experiences.

I have one such extremely significant example of enantiodromia and it occurred today. One of the reasons why I am an infrequent visitor to the virtual world is that I prefer, more than words could encapsulate, to dedicate my time to writing letters to my friends rather than tapping away at keys, for the ink seems to be a most faithful conduit for the inner musings of my Soul. As per routine, I wrote one such letter to my mate, Jan, two days ago, accompanied with a printing of an article from the Brainpickings website, edited by Maria Popova, a faceless Russian genius of the pen. There was, however, one special difference to be observed in my postal habit this time insofar that I gave Jan strict instructions to use her Smartypants phone to photo-archive my offerings and post it on FB today.

Why?

A gut instinct, an intuition, a sixth sense, a premonition. Study closely and carefully:

LINK TO LETTER: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10206246775946661&set=a.1349103125974.2044798.1183222940&type=3&theater

 

  1. I write of a heavenly place, the solace and beauty that I feel when I am in the embrace of my garden. You hint of the same place, though You speak of loss leading to Heaven.
  2. In the letter I am wrapped in warm and comforting attire, You mention of a place on earth that is classically thought of as a freezing tundra.
  3. Maria Popova, a Russian Editor – I do not think it necessary to tease out the connection there!
  4. The written word acts as an amplifier of my thoughts of the beauty of the present moment in my letter, You refer to it as a repository of the Past.
  5. I allude to the wild, roaming child of the forest who is a happy wanderer of the earth, Your child is lost to the ether.
  6. Your characters are sooted in darkness with sparse grains of Light tapping down on them, others stripped of flesh, seared by the blazing shadows of hellish curses; that is why not BRAIN but RAIN PICKINGS appears in the photograph, it is what I send You, like elixir-filled berries, may it soothe, cool and cure any doubts You may have of the sustainability of Your Vision. Never lose sight of it!
  7. ‘X’-cessive flammable activity proves to be an IRRITANT in Your story whereas ‘X’ marks the ‘Treasure’ in Jan’s caption.
  8. Jan has chosen to lay my mail against a backdrop of pretty hand-sewn embroidery, on the contrary Your story pleads for restorative stitches in time and on skin.
  9. You refer to ‘15’ time and time again as a number associated with hardship and tragedy, whereas it is symbolic of Victory and Freedom under the wings of my penmanship.
  10. If a SNAIL were to view its intended destination it may very well utter under its breath: “ Me-Far…”
  11. And that is WHY I wrote the poem below, a month ago, because Autumn Rain Was Made For Books – care to imagine how blessed EDITORS must feel when the heavens release their watery flocks!
  12. Do You CATCH my drift or do I, like the 12 hours of CLOCKWORK, elude Your Logic yet again… :)) 


Whoever You may be, may it be under the healing auspices of rain
Your Mazzy xxx

Wrapped warm in furry teal poncho, motherly amber cave of armchair, though toying with dilemma
Should these eyes walk into Dickens’ ‘Pickwick Papers’ or stray towards Austen’s ‘Emma’?
No doubt one will be chosen, but blessed for these tiny crownless jewels, Tiffany stars on my glass pane
Our desire to read precedes a heavenly emissary: This beautiful, beautiful, beautiful – O so beautiful – autumnal rain… :))

Autumn Rain Was Made For Books

“…No doubt one will be chosen, but blessed for these tiny crownless jewels, Tiffany stars on my glass pane
Our desire to read precedes a heavenly emissary: This beautiful, beautiful, beautiful – O so beautiful – autumnal rain…”

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

Architecture Redémarré: La Tour Eiffel (Architecture Rebooted: The Eiffel Tower)

Diary 5: Architecture Redémarré: La Tour Eiffel (Architecture Rebooted: The Eiffel Tower)

Ladies, Gentlemen and ESPECIALLY the Children – a conspiring nod to my nephew, Mr Zack!

You must surely be fuming with thick steam out of Your ears and wearing the most frumpy grumpy face ever to be etched across anything with two eyes to be sat here still and to not yet receive the benefaction of the one most quintessential visual landmark that screams out PARIS, in a similar vein to the rousing cheers blasted out of Your granny’s vocal chords when she goes completely nuts on her fuel-injection skateboard! WOW! Yes, indeed, where has that famous observation and radio broadcasting tower, once the tallest building in the world, run off to?! Where is the EIFFEL TOWER?!

Located on the Champ de Mars, could it be that highly devious and devilish extra-terrestrial munchkins from the red planet itself, Mars, supposed that the lattice structure engineered by dear old Gustav Eiffel as an entrance to the World Fair of 1889, deserved a more finer mantelpiece in the anti-matter gravitation chambers of their leader? Could they have decided that the Eiffel Tower buzzed with the potential to be promoted to a far more prestigious use, into the most agreeable and fitting pair of…. UNDERPANTS!!!

That is precisely the as-we-speak-right-now fate of the great tower! WOW!

Ah, You think I have lost my marbles completely! Well, my treasured Reader, I do not blame You one bit! Preposterous as my claims may sound to Your delicate anatomy, I have managed to steal, at my life’s peril, irrefutable photographic evidence of the currently hilarious and disreputable, tectonically scandalous and oozingly obnoxious but undeniably admirable status of the Eiffel Tower as it flutters on the washing line inside one very, very, very big Mothership! The French authorities are lagging behind in their investigative prowess, so they are still pitifully unawares as to what hit them. On the elegant contrary, British Intelligence was always one step ahead of the game! Dear Martians, may the tower serve you well but I do advice not putting it on a high spin wash, the screws that hold those lattice seams are terribly lose – sorry – loose… :)) :)) :))

A Planck Length Epilogue:  Well, if You had perused through my previous blog You may care to remember that my technical hardware posed a prickly villainy to my creative ambitions however my fervent retort to such mitigating circumstances finally outwit the culprit of physical limitations! Capturing the Eiffel Tower in totality was a tad impossible so I executed the next best thing which involved going up close and peering at it from below with my beautifully brutish imaginative faculties, and Voilà! There, spread out in its underbelly were the most fashionably intergalactic, lacy, granny underpants that any alien leader would risk life and limb to get his bottom in! Ahem, ahem, I attach a link below to those of You who are novices to the illustrious underpants connection in the British – and of course interstellar – literary world! Giggle, giggle!

LINK:   http://books.simonandschuster.co.uk/Aliens-Love-Underpants!/Claire-Freedman/9781416917045

"Could they [Aliens] have decided that the Eiffel Tower buzzed with the potential to be promoted to a far more prestigious use, into the most agreeable and fitting pair of…. UNDERPANTS!!!"

“Could they [Aliens] have decided that the Eiffel Tower buzzed with the potential to be promoted to a far more prestigious use, into the most agreeable and fitting pair of…. UNDERPANTS!!!”

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Champ De Mars | Paris | France 2015

Architecture Redémarré: Bloqué Infini (Architecture Rebooted: Blocked Infinity)

Diary 4: Architecture Redémarré: Bloqué L’Infini (Architecture Rebooted: Blocked Infinity)

Armed with a single but trusty prime lens, my electronic monocle of spectacular authority, the Leica aka ‘Laika’ 25mm, I had fully accepted at the pre-departure phase that with such an amusingly minimalist kit there would be considerable challenges and limitations, the ability for me to express my stories in the visual modality with effortless ease was out of the question.

An ever-present Vivien Maier countenance as the pillars to my outlook, my confidence and spirit was untarnished by the tools of my trade and my ever optimistic attitude to Life ensured that I adopted a stance of quirky experimentalism for the whole duration of my trip. What is essentially a brilliant lens for portraiture photography had its body supplemented and extended beyond its technical specifications using my own body, so that those around me were comically plagued by raising eyebrows as they watched a little old girl buzz around in all positions so as to catch my subject from new and interesting angles. A limitation in photographic equipment can be quickly transformed into a golden opportunity for lucrative and scintillating visual transmutations that make fun of the norm!

In my Architecture Redémarré (Architecture Rebooted) series I have built a short but beguiling collection of photographic archives of Parisian architecture, each one enshrines a humble and yet a gung-ho ethos of experimentalism as a reactionary affirmation that a sparse camera kit should not hold one back. If anything, ‘less’ is a window of opportunity for more!

The very first photograph I wish to present to You tonight is not exactly the most riveting image in the world, I concede that – giggle, giggle!!! – however I remember when these receding windows and blocks of a noisy, busy Parisian street dominated the visual hemisphere of my eyes, prompting the materialisation of a smirk. Had I been an alien being teleported to the very location that I was stood at I would be strongly inclined to think that those blocks went on forever, and ever, fiercely at war with any possibility of breaking their endless chain of cuboid shapes. The smirk came out of the realisation that in the guise of architectural fibres there was a rippling and orchestral epiphany, sent especially for me to pass onto You: True Love can be defined as an eternal endurance and that is incomprehensible to most minds because they cannot cope with its perplexing and paradoxical architecture – A Blocked Infinity…  :))

Architecture Rebooted: Blocked Infinity

“… True Love can be defined as an eternal endurance and that is incomprehensible to most minds because they cannot cope with its perplexing and paradoxical architecture – A Blocked Infinity… “

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Paris | France 2015