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shaadiwish · 6 months
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This Festive Season, Consider Sprucing Up Your Home With Finest Elements From Luxury Decor Brands. Stay Tuned To ShaadiWish For Latest Trends And Ideas.
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warningsine · 13 days
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what are some good iranian films? i've seen persepolis and a girl walks home alone at night
This is such a vast question, because Iranian cinema is heterogenuous and huge.
From Ali Hatami to Khosrow Sinai (In the Alleys of Love) to Hajir Darioush (Serpent's Skin) to Abbas Kiarostami (Where Is the Friend's Home?) and Jafar Panahi (The Circle) to Asghar Farhadi (A Separation, The Salesman).
But seems like you are interested in works by women directors?
The House is Black (Directed by Forugh Farrokhzad who was also a poet)
Divorce Iranian Style (1998, Kim Longinotto & Ziba Mir-Hosseini)
Two Women (1999, Tahmineh Milani)
Daughters of the Sun (2000, Mariam Shahriar)
The Day I Became a Woman (2000, Marzieh Meshkini)
The Hidden Half (2001 , Tahmineh Milani)
Women's Prison (2002, Directed by Manijeh Hekmat)
Joy of Madness (2003, Hana Makhmalbaf)
The Fifth Reaction (2003, Tahmineh Milani)
Women Without Shadows (2003, Mahnaz Mohammadi)
Gilaneh (2004, Rakhshān Banietemad)
One Night (2005, Niki Karimi)
Cease Fire (2006, Tahmineh Milani)
On a Friday Afternoon (2006, Mona Zandi Haghighi)
Buddha Collapsed out of Shame (2007, Hana Makhmalbaf)
Three Women (2008, Directed by Manijeh Hekmat)
Travelogue (2008, Mahnaz Mohammadi)
We Are Half the Iran's Population (2009, Mahnaz Mohammadi)
Green Days (2009, Hana Makhmalbaf)
Tehran Without Permission (2009, Sepideh Farsi)
The City trilogy (Rakhshān Banietemad)
From Tehran to London (2012, Mania Akbari)
Hush! Girls Don't Scream (2013, Pouran Derakhshandeh)
Tales (2014, Rakhshān Banietemad)
Disappearance (2017, Farnoosh Samadi)
Silence (2017, Maryam Pirband)
The Invincible Diplomacy of Mr. Naderi (2018, Maryam Moghaddam)
16 Women from Teheran (2018, Bahar Ebrahim)
The Old Road (2018, Manijeh Hekmat)
When the Moon Was Full (2019, Narges Abyar)
African Violet (2019, Mona Zandi Haghighi)
Son-Mother (2019, Mahnaz Mohammadi)
180° Rule (2020, Farnoosh Samadi)
I Am Trying to Remember (2021, Pegah Ahangarani)
The Football Aficionado (2022, Sharmin Mojtahedzadeh & Paliz Khoshdel)
1001 Nights Apart (2022, Sarvnaz Alambeigi)
Colonel Soraya (2023, Leili Aaj)
Where Is the Friend's Home? (Short 2023, Amina Maher)
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lavyahairdesign · 4 months
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Eyebrows Toowoomba - 6 Elements of a Well-Shaped Eyebrow
Eyebrows frame and accentuate the eyes and are one of the most important facial features. They can make or break the look of an individual and have a significant impact on how the face is perceived.
The beauty of a well-shaped eyebrow is that it can hide and correct imperfections, making a person look younger, slimmer and more attractive. However, despite the popularity of trends like Cara Delevingne’s bush brothers, not everyone is aware that there are actually 6 different elements that contribute to the perfect brow shape.
It is best to choose a brow shape that compliments the overall shape of your face, rather than simply copying what you see on Instagram or celebrity pictures. According to Anastasia Soare, CEO and founder of Anastasia Beverly Hills, brows should be shaped for balance and proportion, and the best shape for each person will depend on their unique face and bone structure.
To help determine what shape is the most flattering, Janine recommends using a pencil to map out your natural brows. To do so, start with the fullest part of your brow and draw a line vertically above the outer edge of the pupil to where it intersects the brow bone. This is your arch and should be the starting point of your brow. From there, angle the pencil downward to where it meets the outer corner of the nose. This is where your brow tail should be. Be careful not to overextend the tail, as it can drag the eye down and look unnatural.
Another important element of the brow is the width. Thicker brows work well with wider faces and can help to soften strong angles of narrower ones. The best shape for thin brows is an arc, which is also ideal for round and oval faces, as it will add definition and balance.
Eyebrows Toowoomba can be tweezed, plucked, waxed and threaded to achieve the desired look. Each of these methods has its own pros and cons, but threading is the most recommended method for creating naturally shaped eyebrows that are uniform in size. It is less painful than tweezing and removes multiple hairs at a time, so it’s quicker and easier to maintain a clean appearance.
For those looking to have a more permanent solution, Janine recommends Microblading or Semi-Permanent Makeup (SMM). This is a technique where tiny pigmented hair-like strokes are placed into the skin at a depth that will remain semi-permanent for 1-3 years. It is a great option for those who have sparse or over-plucked brows and want to achieve a more full, natural-looking eyebrow.
To ensure that your eyebrows are perfectly shaped and proportionate, Janine recommends visiting a reputable salon that offers a range of services to suit your needs. A professional brow technician will be able to create the perfect brow for you and can advise you on how to care for your brows at home to prolong their longevity. To book a brow appointment at a Ziba Brow Studio near you, click here.
Lavya Hair Design are your first choice for a Hairdresser in Toowoomba for modern hair cuts, crisp clean hair colours and naturally nourished hair.
Visit our brand new salon in Toowoomba Plaza near Kmart, where you can relax in style and be pampered whilst enjoying our affordable hair package deals.
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A Murder at the End of the World: Homme Fatale
FX has a new Murder mystery series and I’ve been avoiding it because I thought it was another true crime documentary 🤣 The show is described as a mystery series about a Gen Z hacker and amateur sleuth named Darby who is invited to a isolated retreat by a billionaire along with 8 other guests. When one of the guests is killed, it’s up to Darby to figure out who the killer is and stop them before it’s too late. Here is my recap and thoughts about the first episode. Spoilers ahead!
The series opens with Darby walking down a street listening to The End by The Doors which makes for a very creepy beginning to the series. Darby arrived at a book signing where it’s revealed that Darby is an author herself and has come to read from her book The Silver Doe. The Silver Doe is a true crime book that Darby wrote about herself and her lover named Bill on the hunt for a serial killer. Based off of how Darby has described this killer and that several women may have been their victims, we can assume that this will be the same killer that Darby will be chasing at the resort she ends up at with the other guests.
Darby’s reading is told through a flashback of her and Bill not only visiting but hacking into this suspected killer’s home. We learn that while yes Darby is a good hacker, she is lacking in discernment. From allowing Bill to park in the garage, to going into a basement of a house that she hasn’t even checked to see if anyone is inside, it’s clear she makes terrible choices. Not only did the two break in, they tore up the basement floors to try to see if they could find any bodies. AND THEY SLEPT THERE. Now I will give Darby props for discovering the stairs were redone to cover a buried body, but that whole scene was so anxiety inducing. I get wanting to be the first to crack a case but you can’t reap the rewards if you’re dead. When asked by an audience member what happened to Bill she refuses to answer so we know there’s a lot to unpack there.
At twenty minutes into the episode, we finally get into the main plot. Andy Robson, a reclusive billionaire and tech genius who Darby previously mentioned at her book reading, has contacted her. This already feels super shady, but especially so when his assistant shows up at her place and demands to be let in but can only be seen on the cell phone. Andy Ronson has invited her along with 8 guests to meet on a paid for retreat because he wants to meet all of their brilliant minds to discuss technology. Darby is hesitant but agrees after learning that Lee, Andy’s wife will be there. Lee is a hacker who Darby looks up to so there was no doubt that she’d attend the trip. It feels like a set up but we shall see. All these precautions taken just to board and the fact that Andy has been keeping tabs on her just gives me a weird feeling idk.
After a strange dream/flashback we learn that the guests have been taken to Fljot Valley in Iceland. I love a Good snowed in and isolated mystery and it’s giving me the same vibe as the HBO limited series The Head. But on to the suspects:
Martin Mitchell, a filmmaker who wants to make a film about missing Black women in D.C.
Lu Mei, a woman who builds smart cities in China, Yinchuan to be exact
Dr. Sian Cruise, a doctor who is researching colonizing the moon
David Alvarez, a venture capitalist born in Argentina
Ziba, an Iranian activist
Oliver, works with robotics
The mysterious Bill in question, Bill Farrah
Rohan, ???
Marius
Lee Andersen
Andy Ronson
Lu Mei’s assistant who never speaks
Todd
Ray
I’m starting to think Darby is an unreliable narrator with her Silver Doe book 🤔 What really happened with Bill? And Lee is giving me unfulfilled housewife vibes which is sad because Darby describes her as being brilliant.
After a dinner of introductions and being absolutely shook at Bill’s reappearance, the two end up having a small chat before both return to their rooms. I can’t help but feel that Bill will be the first victim because he said there was something he needed to tell Darby before leaving alone which breaks mystery/thriller/horror rule #1 to never go off alone,especially when you have important info to share. And sure enough, he’s dead. This sucks because he was such an interesting character and I wanted to see more of him and Darby together.
My first theory:
Darby was invited because she was needed as a fall guy or the murder was anticipated and they needed a sleuth but didn’t want to use the police. Lee and Bill knowing each other is very suspicious but it could very well be a red herring. Martin and Sian both seemed like fans of Bill so maybe they’ve met before and we’re either obsessed or had a bad encounter after dinner. It would be so wild if Ray did it on Andy’s command but the question then is how since he’s ai. But then again the room could have been rigged to be tampered with. I hate that Bill died without even hinting at who killed him because that would have given us something to work with.
All in all I’m liking the show so far and I’m glad to have a new mystery series to focus on. What do you guys think so far?
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thelivemaharashtra · 9 months
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Elevate Your Bedroom: Discover Unique Nightstands at Ziba Homes UK
Welcome to Ziba Homes UK, where sophistication and individuality unite in our exquisite collection of nightstands. Elevate your bedroom with the enchanting allure of mother of pearl nightstands, each meticulously crafted to add a touch of elegance and charm to your sleeping sanctuary. Embrace the uniqueness of our pearl nightstands, standing out as a testament to exceptional design and luxury. Discover the perfect blend of style and functionality with our carefully curated selection of unique nightstands, each thoughtfully chosen to bring distinctiveness and flair to your bedroom decor. From the captivating beauty of mother of pearl side tables to the modern appeal of our unique nightstands for sale, each piece embodies artistry and fine craftsmanship. Embrace the beauty of individuality with our unique night tables, designed to complement your interior style and create a truly special space. At Ziba Homes, we invite you to explore our remarkable collection and redefine your bedroom with nightstands that reflect your personal taste and elevate your space to new heights of elegance.
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This agro voltaic sculpture engages the duality and potential for harmony between nature and technology. The walls are open, leaving room for creative transformation through visual, aural, kinetic, and living installations, a poetic metaphor for the home within ourselves and our environment.
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tradedmiami · 11 months
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SALE IMAGE: Karen Eisenbrei DATE: 05/10/2023 ADDRESS: 5030 Sunrise Drive South MARKET: Saint Petersburg ASSET TYPE: Single Family ~ ACRES: 4.41 SELLER: Phillip Farley BUYER'S REP: Karen Eisenbrei - Charles Rutenberg Realty SELLER'S REP: Ziba Mohammadi - Keller Williams St Pete Realty SALE PRICE: $8,100,000 SF: 9,200 ~ PPSF: $880 NOTE: The historic Rutland-Farley Estate, a 4.41-acre waterfront property in St. Petersburg, has been sold to a private investor for $8.1 million in an all-cash deal. Despite the property's potential for subdivision and further development, the buyer intends to maintain it as a private residence, preserving the 1918-built English Tudor-style home that features seven bedrooms, eight and a half bathrooms, a library, gym, and an Olympic-sized pool. #Miami #RealEstate #tradedmia #MIA #SaintPetersburg #SingleFamily #PhillipFarley #KarenEisenbrei #CharlesRutenbergRealty #ZibaMohammadi #KellerWilliamsStPeteRealty
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zibahomes · 1 year
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Mother of Pearl Nightstand Uk
If you are looking to buy a mother of pearl nightstand in the UK, Ziba Homes offers pearl nightstand, unique night stands, unique nightstands, mother of pearl side tables, unique night tables, modern nightstands.
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kashmirmonitor · 1 year
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Child protection specialist Dr Ziba Vaghri delivers special lecture at KU
Srinagar, Apr 25: Dr Ziba Vaghri, an acclaimed expert on child protection and development, delivered a special extension lecture on ‘Role of Child Protection in Fulfilling Children’s Rights’ at the University of Kashmir on Tuesday. Dr Ziba, an alumnus of the KU’s Institute of Home Science, is presently Associate Professor at University of New Brunswick, Saint Johan, Canada. KU Vice-Chancellor…
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scm047 · 1 year
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Modern Coffee Table
Zebahomes, located at Surrey, UK, manages to blend the vibrant and intricate artistry of indigenous craft techniques that has captivated people for centuries with our contemporary design. Infusing new life into these traditional arts, our professional table makers are creating a highly functional and beautiful range of modern coffee tables.
At the core of our dedication towards blending the traditional with contemporary lies a deep respect for the past, combined with a passionate vision for the future. Join us in rediscovering the beauty and power of indigenous craft techniques and infuse them with fresh ideas and modern aesthetics. 
Looking to buy unique coffee tables for your home? Ziba homes is the best choice to buy modern coffee tables. Drop a mail to  [email protected]
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igiveanf · 1 year
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The Mess in the Middle.
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I heard a preacher speak about Mephibosheth today - don’t worry, I couldn't pronounce it either so I looked it up -  (Ma-fe-bo-sheth)
The story goes like this.... 
The boy was five years old when his father Jonathon and grandfather king Saul were killed in battle. 
In a panic, his caretaker scooped him up to flee in fear he would be killed. In her haste, she dropped him and he became paralyzed in both feet. 
When he was older, King David learned that he was still alive and had flown to stay with Ziba. David wanted to show God's kindness to him and bring honor to his father Jonathon whom David had loved, so he called for him to be brought to the palace. 
He gave him all the land Saul had owned and because he discovered the boy was paralyzed, King David provided workers for the land and invited him to eat at the Kings table in the palace. 
The love of God covered Mephibosheth through king David and Mephibosheth bowed down and said, "What is your servant, that you should notice a dead dog like me?" 
I loved the story because I could see the picture of what God's love did for us. He looked on a dead dog, sinful people, and restored it to life, and not just that, but He also made a seat at His table for us to eat with him, because he LOVES us.
As I thought about how beautiful this story was (I do love a happy ending) I also thought about the messy part in the middle where the young boy lost his father and his home and the use of his legs, all in the same day. 
He was dropped by someone who was well meaning but whom he trusted. He was living his life in hiding and fear. In one short moment, his life had changed so dramatically for the worse. I can’t even imagine what he went through.
I thought about how horrible this all was. The mess was no doubt hard for him to see beyond. When we’re facing an obstacle or challenge, focusing on anything else can be very difficult. All we can see when we look at a mess is a mess. And, when we see the mess, it’s not uncommon to begin to believe in its permanence.
I reflected on the challenges I was facing at the time; the loss of my father to ALS, the loneliness my mother was facing, and the sadness I had for both of them.
It was then that I heard God say what I feel he wants everyone to know;
 "You cannot judge your story by the mess in the middle child. You will be restored in MY time. It may not happen as fast as you would like it to. But it WILL happen because I am the God of love, of restoration, and of happy endings." 
It’s hard to imagine happy endings when all you can see around you is the messy middle. But this is good news because it means that it's not over, there is another chapter to be written. You may be down, but you're not out. It may look over, but it's only the middle.  
It may feel like it's all crashing down around you, but it's just for a season. The end isn't here just yet, so take your eyes off the messy middle and place them on Jesus - the author and finisher - the one in charge of writing your story. The one who wants you to have a happy ending.
Trust that his timing is perfect and he will finish this well. Trust that you will see his hand on whatever your messy middle is and that HIS glory will come out of it.
Have faith that the problem, the struggle, the mess, the giant heap of all the stuff that seems so big, is not too big for God. 
Nothing is over until He says it is, and what He is saying is that it's only the middle. 
All books are messy in the middle so what do you need to do?
Keep reading because, He’s not done!
Much Love,
Alison Brown
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clairity-org · 3 years
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Ziba Rajabi, The Glitched Home, 2021, Acrylic on canvas, thread, mirror, mixed media, 9/8/21 #crystalbridges
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Ziba Rajabi, The Glitched Home, 2021, Acrylic on canvas, thread, mirror, mixed media, 9/8/21 #crystalbridges by Sharon Mollerus
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Migratory Birds Part 3
So it has been... awhile but here we go! New chapter!
Summary: College shenanigans feat. normal (ish) society
Link here
Part 3
Ziba drags him out to a cooking class she goes to on Thursday nights.
“I heard you swearing in Farsi,” she tells him sheepishly. She doesn’t look straight at him when she speaks. Instead, choosing to glance from the corner of her eye as she walks next to him. He likes that she’s quiet. Alec is friendly and full of life but he can be a bit much sometimes and Damian has always valued the quiet moments. Ziba’s family is from Iran and she misses them. She tells him he shouldn’t hide his Farsi, that she likes hearing it. Damian looks at the floor, doesn’t thank her because it’s not like he needed permission to speak his mother tongue, but tells her he will - in Farsi, naturally - and she blushes.
They make bolani and a type of qormah and Damian finds there are tears in his eyes. Ziba, eating next to him, smiles like she knows what’s in Damian’s head.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had a good qormah,” he tells her and she nods in agreement.
“Yeah, me too.”
He walks back with her and in the dark he feels more daring than he has since he gave up Robin. It seizes him in its grip and shakes him until he submits to his impulses.
“My parents were not married,” he begins. “My grandfather arranged for them to meet and have a relationship because of the power and wealth that they wielded. It was politics, nothing more. I think they did love each other, deep down, but there was a falling out and my father left them before I was born.” They both shudder. There are consequences for unmarried mothers. “I grew up in the mountains. I do not know where precisely but it was remote and it was popular with the armed militant groups there. At my grandfather’s insistence, I was raised a warrior. He remembers the wars that spanned the world and reached the mountains and valleys where we lived.” For a moment, the only sound is their footsteps.
“Your grandfather must be very old, to remember that,” Ziba says and he inclines his head.
“He is old beyond measure. He taught me to use a sword before a pen, to fight for the sake of fighting before others tear you down. But my mother taught me to be human. She taught me to read and write and make art. She taught me how to care for the hawks and the stories of our people. And then, when it got too dangerous, she sent me to live with father. He didn’t even know I existed and she sent me away from my home and everything I knew and I shouldn’t miss it because there were so many problems with the way they raised me but sometimes it feels more like home than America ever will.” He stops. Breathes. Allows the conversation to rest.
“Your mother sounds very brave,” Ziba says. It is true that Talia al Ghul is no coward - fear was wiped out of their family with the birth of the Head of the Demon - but the story he told is not entirely truthful and so he cannot honestly say that the decision was a brave one.
“My family left Iran when I was six. I barely remember it. But they were born and raised there and they took part of their home with them. They raised me Iranian, to follow Islam, to be kind and hospitable to everyone, and I’m glad I got that even if kids were cruel about it.” She touches her hijab as if to make sure it’s still there and Damian seethes because he knows exactly how cruel children could be.
“Children are awful,” he agrees. “But we don’t have to deal with them anymore, just crazy adults, and most of them have the sense to stay quiet unless they want someone to slap them.” Ziba covers her laugh with her fist. They’re almost back at the dorm so they move to lighter topics.
“The food was very good,” he says and she nods.
“Yes. You should come again! It’s free food once a week and the people are nice.” He smiles at her and thinks about the qormah and the bolani that he hadn’t eaten since he was a child in Nanda Parbat, about sitting cross-legged next to Ziba and eating how he used to with mother, scraping the bowl like a heathen to savour the last few morsels.
“Yeah, maybe I will.”
It’s a step forward to being a normal college student, something Damian never even thought to hope he might be. So yes, maybe he will go back, maybe he will make a friend of Ziba, maybe he will fill his time with things other than work.
In the lead up to Christmas, there’s a number of attacks on students making their way home. Damian isn’t worried about it: it’s been years since Gotham, but he’s still more than capable of fighting off any idiot who tries to get the jump on him or his friends. Others disagree, apparently.
“Self defense training. Tuesday. Be there,” says the RA (Benny. Geology major.) He raises a hand when Damian starts to protest.
“It’s compulsory, no ifs, no buts.”
“I could probably teach the class,” he says flatly and Benny crosses his arms over his chest and stares him down. Damian feels extraordinarily like a child being reprimanded. He doesn’t like it.
“Fine. I’ll go.” He folds like a piece of paper.
The class is taught by two older students: a guy and a girl. The guy is small and lean and bounces on his toes when he walks just like Dick. The girl is built like a tank, tall and muscled and broad. Damian thinks she’s probably double his weight. She’s quiet though, smooth and still and fluid. If he’d seen her on patrol, he’d definitely have seen her as the bigger threat. They introduce themselves and split them into two groups. Damian is in a group with Ziba, who looks relieved to be with him, another girl from his floor, two guys from the corridor opposite and three others he doesn’t recognise. The guy, Frazier, has them introduce themselves then asks who has previous experience. Damian and his other floormate put up their hands. She’s a brown belt in karate, apparently, which is impressive. He hadn’t known anyone was interested in martial arts particularly.
“I grew up in Gotham,” he tells them. As if that explains everything (it does. If you know anything about what life in Gotham is like, which no one does.) When Frazier asks him for an explanation, he provides.
“It’s unusual in Gotham for people to  not undergo at least some formal martial arts or self defense training. I left when I was fifteen but my father was a bit...obsessed with our safety and made us learn everything we could. I’m a black belt in five forms of martial arts and a brown belt in three more. I also sword fight among...other things.”
Silence.
“I know they said this was compulsory but shit, dude, why are you here?” Damian shrugs. He doesn’t really know, other than not having a particular desire to face Benny’s ire.
“I could assist in your teaching, if you want,” he tells Frazier. There is an element of hysteria to his voice when he responds, as if he can’t believe Damian even offered.
“Sure,” he says, breathlessly. “Sure. Yeah. You can do that.”
And thus Damian turns into a dummy. He lets Frazier use him for demonstrations, throw him around, place his hands on him. Not that many years ago, he would not have stood for it, would have done everything he could to stop him from laying a hand on him. The Damian of the past would not have offered help in the first place. The Damian of the present stands still as Frazier wraps an arm around his throat and tries not to shiver. He moves slowly, telegraphing his movements as he swings his fist at Frazier’s groin, his elbow up to smash a chin. It does not connect, Damian makes sure of it. Control was the last thing he learnt but the one that lingered longest.
The week before Christmas break is finals week and everyone goes a little crazy. Damian finds a little alcove in the library and just...doesn’t leave. He enters a dream-like world of books and diagrams and notes and equations and copious amounts of caffeine which until then he hadn’t so much as touched (he refused to sully the perfection of his body with such things, did not need whatever boost it would give… except, he is not perfect. He is made of fixed parts and patched up skin and perhaps he maybe needs just a little, just to get through the night, just to get through this section). He sits his exams; he goes back to studying. He submits an essay; he goes back to studying. He does the quiz; he goes back to studying. He comes back to himself late on Friday night, well after his final assignment was due, hungry and bleary-eyed and feeling like death warmed over (and he of all people would know what that feels like). His bed calls to him but his stomach growls louder and it doesn’t take long to make microwave mac and cheese.
Sleep does not come easy to Damian. It never has and it never will. His body is not trained to sleep deeply or dream of better worlds or wake refreshed in the morning. If Damian dreams, it is of blood and battles lost and people dead and gone. If Damian sleeps, it is the sleep of the hunted, the twitchy sleep that lingers on the threshold of awakening. After finals, Damian sleeps for a full twelve hours without so much as rolling over.
He finally wakes when Alec shakes his shoulder and tips ice water on his face. It is almost midafternoon and his bus leaves in two hours. Damian has not even begun packing. Alec agrees to help him - his parents are picking him up the next morning and he packed before finals even began because Alec is weirdly organised for someone so messy - and they throw as much laundry in his suitcase as possible. Some extra clothes go in his backpack, along with some books he needs and his sketchpad and pens. There. That’s everything. He has… ten minutes to run to the bus stop on the other side of campus.
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thelivemaharashtra · 9 months
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Elevate Your Spaces with Stylish and Functional Storage Solutions from Ziba Homes UK
Welcome to Ziba Homes UK, where stylish and functional storage solutions converge in our remarkable collection of modern storage cabinets, drawer cabinets, and drawer chests. Embrace the perfect fusion of aesthetics and organization as you explore our diverse range of storage options. From sleek and contemporary storage cabinets to innovative drawer cabinets, each piece is thoughtfully designed to elevate your living spaces with efficiency and elegance. Discover the charm of our modern drawer chests and storage cabinets with drawers, providing the ideal solution to keep your home clutter-free and organized. With our carefully curated selection, finding the perfect drawers and cabinets to suit your needs has never been easier. Experience the seamless blend of style and practicality at Ziba Homes, where we redefine storage with innovative designs that complement your lifestyle and enhance your home’s decor.
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6, 7 and 12 for the fanfic thing?
6) what is your favourite sense to incorporate in your writing and why?
probably sight, I often find myself getting lost in descriptions and forgetting that there’s like a story outside of what this thing looks like that I need to write.
7) what is you favourite sentence/paragraph? read it to us! (asker can choose what fic) (x)
It’s from a WIP I’m slowly editing (kind of) and posting to Wattpad called Handprints. It’s the ending
“Dee nodded to themself as they took the paint can from Sparks’s hand. They felt like everything was in slow motion as they walked to the cave wall and pressed their right hand, mesmerized by the way the fire light glinted and played on the metal of their hand as they pressed metal to stone and raised the spay can, letting the brightly colored paint cover their hand until both the hand and the rock around it was completely covered. Finally, they were done.  
 Dee felt the presence of Sparks and Ziba on either side of them, gentle pressure on either shoulder that felt like coming home.  
 “I like it,” Dee didn’t need to look to know Ziba had a smile on her face.   
The three stood like that, shoulder to shoulder, as the fire light cast and melded the three shadows into one.“
so fun fact about this WIP, the three characters in this scene are going to be (eventually) a thruple and this scene is kinda of supposed to be foreshadowing for that as well as being a moment when Dee is fully brought into the main group and being a way to mark that they had found a new home (they had a tradition of doing that whole thing with the spray paint hand print whenever someone new joined them back at their old home) (it’s gonna be a series and I’m already working on plotting out the second book)
12) what headcanon will you keep implementing in your fics, even if canon ends up contradicting it?
hmm I don’t write a whole ton of fanfic anymore (I get too bogged down in being worried about writing ooc) so I usually just go with “fics I write in my head to entertain myself”, it’d probably be though that Stoick lived and he, Hiccup,Astrid, and Valka are all living as a happy family with their dragons on Berk (literally I see every part of the second and third HTTYD movies past when Stoick and Valka reunite as being just a suggestion)
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spamzineglasgow · 4 years
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(REVIEW) Tongues by Taylor Le Melle, Rehana Zaman and Those Institutions Should Belong to Us, by Christopher Kirubi
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In this review, Rhian Williams takes a look at Tongues, a dazzling zine edited by Taylor Le Melle and Rehana Zaman (PSS, 2018), with* Christopher Kirubi’s pamphlet ‘Those Institutions Should Belong to Us’ (PSS). 
*I [Rhian] use ‘with’ here in homage to Fred Moten’s use of that preposition in all that beauty (2019) to ‘denote accompaniment[]’. This pamphlet was interleaved in the review copy of Tongues that I received from PSS.
> Onions, lemons, chilli peppers, fractals, hands, patterns, palms pressing, tears, avocados, pomegranate, mouths, finger clicking, deserts. Screenshots, flyers, placards, transcripts, textures, temporalities. Tongues is an urgent gathering in, a zine-type publication that works as a space where Black and Brown women (bringing both their intersections and the tension of distinction) enact memorial, exchange, jouissance, resistance, collaboration, support, listening. Edited by Taylor Le Melle and filmmaker Rehana Zaman, whose work generates many of the dialogic responses interleaved in this collection, this ‘assembly of voices’ was brought together in this particular format in the wake of Zaman’s exhibition, Speaking Nearby, shown at the CCA in Glasgow in 2018. But, as Ainslie Roddick explains, in ‘an attempt to reckon with the trans-collaborative nature of “practice” itself’, Tongues resists academic mechanisms that fall into reiterating the violence of individualism, moving around the figure of the single author/editor to seek to capture ‘a process of thinking with and through the people we work and resist with, acknowledging and sharing the work of different people as practice’ (p. 3). As such, ‘[Tongues’] structure, design and rhythm reflect the work of all the contributors to this anthology who think with one another through various practical, poetic and pedagogical means’ (ibid.). Designed and published by PSS, this is a tactile, sensory production: its aesthetics are post-internet, collage, digi-analogue, liquid-yet-textural, with shiny paper pages that you have to gently peel apart, gleaming around a central pamphlet of matte, heavier paper in mucous-membrane pink and mauve, which itself protects the centrefold glossy mouth-open lick of ‘I kiss your ass’ between the leaves of Ziba Karbassi’s poem, ‘Writing Cells’, here in both Farsi and English (translated with Stephen Watts). Throughout, Tongues reiterates the sensuous, labouring body as political, as partisan.
> Tongues’ multivalency is capacious, nurturing, dedicated to archiving that which is fugitive yet ineluctable; so, inevitably, its overarching principle is labour, is work. The entire collection of essays, response pieces, email exchanges, WhatsApp messages, poetry, transcripts, journaling, and imaginings are testimony to effort and skill, to the determination to keep spaces open for remembrance and for noticing within the ever-creeping demands of production. It is not surprising that this valuable collection is stalked by perilous attenuation, the damage of exhaustion. It is appallingly prescient of the first week of June 2020. Moving my laptop so that I can write whilst also keeping an eye on what I’m cooking for later, setting up my child to listen to an audiobook so that I can try to open up some headspace for listening and responding, nervous about how to spread my ‘being with’ across multiple platforms (my child, my writing, the news, other voices), I am taken by Chandra Frank’s meditative response piece to Zaman’s Tell me the story Of all these things (2017) and Theresa Hak Kyung Cha’s Dictee (1982), which vibrates with ‘the potency and liberatory potential of the kitchen’ (p. 9) and movingly seeks to track and honour ‘what it means to both feel and read through a non-linear understanding of subjectivities’ (p. 10). But I only have to turn the page to realise my white safety. I am at home in my kitchen; my space may feel like it has turned into a laboratory for the reproduction of everyday life under lockdown, but it is manifest, it is seen in signed contracts, my subjectivity is grounded on recognition and citizenship. For Sarah Reed, searingly remembered by Gail Lewis in ‘More Than… Questions of Presence’, subjectivity was experienced as brutalisation, manifested posthumously in hashtags, #sayhername. (Reed was found dead in her cell at Holloway Prison in London in February 2016. In 2012 she had been violently assaulted by Metropolitan Police officer James Kiddie; the assault was captured by CCTV footage.) For the women immigrants engaged in domestic work in British homes, as documented here in Marissa Begonia’s vital journaling piece and Zaman’s discussion with Laura Guy, subjectivity is precarity and threat, their dogged labour forced into shadows. Lewis’s piece pivots around a ‘capacity of concern’ generated by ‘the political, ethical, relationship challenge posed by the presence of “the black woman”’ (p. 18), urging that such concern be of the order of care by walking a line with psychoanalysts D. A. Winnicott and Wilfred Bion in recognising that ‘in naming something we begin a journey in the unknown’ (p. 19). If that ‘unknown’ includes understanding how the British state is inimical to the self-determination and safety of Black and Brown women born within its ‘Commonwealth’ borders (#CherryGroce; #JoyGardner; #CynthiaJarrett; #BellyMujinga), and further, how its ‘hostile environment’ policies – named and pursued as such by the British Home Office under Theresa May – are designed specifically to threaten those born elsewhere, by reiterating Britain’s historical enthusiasm for enslavement of non-white labour (see the 2012 visa legislation, discussed here, that, for domestic workers, effectively put a lock on the 2016 ‘Modern Slavery Act’ review before it had even begun), then consider Tongues a demand to get informed. This is a zine about workers and working. It is imperative that we come to terms with what working life in Britain looks like (see the Public Health England report into disparities in the risk and outcomes of COVID-19 – released June 2 2020, censored to remove sections that highlighted the effect of structural racism, but nevertheless evidencing the staggering inequality in death and suffering that is linked to occupation and to citizen status, and therefore tracks race and poverty lines). It is imperative that we scrutinise how ‘popular [and, I would add, Westminster] culture perpetuates a notion of working class identity as a fantasy’ (p. 52) that literally spirits away the bodies undertaking keywork in the UK. The title of Frank’s piece here, ‘Fragmented Realities’, is exquisitely apt.
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> Bookended by Roddick’s and Zaman’s radical re-orientating of the apparatus of academia – the introduction that resists assimilating each of the forthcoming pieces under one stable rubric, instead simply listing anonymously a sentence from each contributor in a process of meditative opening up, and ‘A note, before the notes. The end notes’ that counter-academically reveals weaknesses and vulnerabilities, is open to qualification and reframing, is responsive ­– Tongues constitutes a politics and aesthetics of ‘shift’. Collated after a staged exhibition, anticipating new bodies of work to come, and ultimately punctuated by a pamphlet that segues from reporting on an inspiring event that took place at the Women’s Art Library, Goldsmith’s University of London to imagining a second one in paper (the ‘original’ having been thwarted by bad weather), the entire collection has a productively stuttering relationship with temporality and with presence. As Shama Khanna writes about working groups and reading groups, workshops and pleasure-seeking in gallery spaces, this is the moving ground of the undercommons. It is testament to its intellectual lodestars – Sara Ahmed, Fred Moten, Stefano Harney, and, especially, the eroto-power of Audre Lorde. Along with Christopher Kirubi’s pamphlet, ‘Those Institutions Should Belong to Us’, which comprises a series of seven short ‘prose poems’ documenting the anguish of writing a dissertation from a marginalised perspective, the entire project of Tongues with Those Institutions is to upend academic practice, to recognise the ideological thrust of academic method, to stage fugitive enquiry. Kirubi’s plain sans-serif black font on white pages rehearses the anxious dialectics of interpellation and liberation (‘there is a need to see ourselves reflected in position of agency power and self determination in a world which does not really wish to see us thrive at all’ (part 3)) afforded by their academic obligations, but inarticulacy is a higher form of eloquence:
Even though I know at some point I am going to have to yield to these demands I feel I have to say now that I want to take in this dissertation a position of defending the inarticulate, defending the subjective and defending the incoherent, without having to arrive at a point of defence through theoretically determined foundations, but to feel them.
> Since its structuring principles are those of women’s work, and of Black and Brown experience, nurturing and shielding within the exhaustingly cyclical nature of toiling for recognition, respect, and protection, Tongues dances in the poetics of circles, of loops and feedback, of reciprocity and exchange. Recognising, however, that circularity is also the shape of repetitive strain, Zaman leaves us with a spiralling gesture, in homage to the Haitian spiral, ‘born out of the work of the Spiralist poets’ (p. 61). This ‘dynamic and non-linear’ form insists on the mutuality of the past and contemporary circumstances, is ‘a movement of multiplied or fractured beings, back and forth in time and space demanding accumulation, tumult, and repetition, adamant irresolution and open endedness…’. We are in that spiral now. Such demands must be heard, power must be relinquished, established forms of control – enacted in the streets and on our pages – must be terminated. Writing in early June 2020, this feels precarious; no one is exempt from giving of their strength.
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Please pursue further information here. If you are able, these organisations thrive (given the paucity of state support) on donation:
Voice of Domestic Workers: https://www.thevoiceofdomesticworkers.com/
Cherry Groce foundation: https://www.cherrygroce.org/
BBZBLACKBOOK (a digital archive of emerging & established black queer artists): https://bbzblkbk.com/
Reclaim Holloway: http://reclaimholloway.mystrikingly.com/
~
Text: Rhian Williams
Published: 16/6/20
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