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Just another #coffeephotography lol #coffee #dailyblogger #iphonography @costacafe #cortado #lateart

Just another #coffeephotography lol #coffee #dailyblogger #iphonography @costacafe #cortado #lateart #coffeeblogger #travelphotography #dammam #airport (at King Fahd International Airport)
https://www.instagram.com/p/B63ihevFn7-/?igshid=1aua38k35mkxw


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If you ever crave something yummy and chocolate come to @bakentakeksa #foodie #foodblogger #trear #c

If you ever crave something yummy and chocolate come to @bakentakeksa #foodie #foodblogger #trear #chocolate #cookie #chocolatechipscookies #dammam #sa (at Bassam Plaza)
https://www.instagram.com/p/B63e3iHlhd3/?igshid=s5xbkdb1evy1


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In December I made the illustrations of ‘Sprinkles’, a poetry book by a 4-year-old boy.IIn December I made the illustrations of ‘Sprinkles’, a poetry book by a 4-year-old boy.IIn December I made the illustrations of ‘Sprinkles’, a poetry book by a 4-year-old boy.IIn December I made the illustrations of ‘Sprinkles’, a poetry book by a 4-year-old boy.IIn December I made the illustrations of ‘Sprinkles’, a poetry book by a 4-year-old boy.IIn December I made the illustrations of ‘Sprinkles’, a poetry book by a 4-year-old boy.IIn December I made the illustrations of ‘Sprinkles’, a poetry book by a 4-year-old boy.IIn December I made the illustrations of ‘Sprinkles’, a poetry book by a 4-year-old boy.IIn December I made the illustrations of ‘Sprinkles’, a poetry book by a 4-year-old boy.I

In December I made the illustrations of ‘Sprinkles’, a poetry book by a 4-year-old boy.

I designed the book cover (in green, attached) to show how much I thought the boy contributed to the text compared to his parents— this is a first-time confession :)

The little author, Shivaansh, composed short stanzas based on Polaroid pictures he took over the last year, then put them together in topic-based poems. I made the illustrations for the book inspired by those texts and frames.

Today the book was published on Amazon Kindle as it was simultaneously released at the consulate of his country (India) in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia.

Now as I saw him reading the poems fluently, I feel I should have added more territory representing him on the book’s cover :)

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Get your copy now! Available worldwide.

India - https://www.amazon.in/dp/9389604885

https://www.flipkart.com/sprinkles/p/itm83bab75589a16

US - https://www.amazon.com/dp/9389604885

UK - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/9389604885

Germany - https://www.amazon.de/dp/9389604885

France - https://www.amazon.fr/dp/9389604885

Spain - https://www.amazon.es/dp/9389604885

Italy - https://www.amazon.it/dp/9389604885

Japan - https://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/9389604885

Canada - https://www.amazon.ca/dp/9389604885


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My family and I recently moved to live in the city of Khobar, and we chose the vicinity of the sea.

My family and I recently moved to live in the city of Khobar, and we chose the vicinity of the sea. Here I gained a new habit: I now start my mornings by looking indefintely at the sea surface, which is always bright and on standby.

The sea unites with its surrounding for an ever-changing charm. It appears new, different and beautiful every time I look. It is beautiful when it reflects the sky, the sun’s rays or the color of the clouds, and it is beautiful if it hosts a swarm of birds, shows a silhouette of a fisherman or carries a distant boat, and is beautiful if it chooses to stay up with the stars or disappear in the darkness of the night.

Our love for the places is different from any other love. It is a love that we inhabit. For this, it never becomes a memory in itself, but rather a place for all memories. It colors them and colors us, and it is -in this particular sense- something larger than love. It is a feeling that I know very well -I am the son of as-Salt - but I don’t know a name for.

The sea keeps revealing its beauties to me every hour as if it realizes that. Its image will always resonate the echo of what I feel today, and tomorrow when I look back, I will see a young me wandering on its shore.


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لم يتغيّر المنظر كثيراً منذ حُبست هذه الشّمس ساعةً ليوشع بن نون، لكنّ المشهد تغيّر؛ ربّما رأى نهراً هو الآن سيلٌ من طين، وبحراً يتآكل اليومَ قهراً، لكنّه لم يرَ أريحا ونابلس والقدس، الّتي كان في طريقه إليها، حلماً بعيد المنال.

تجمَعُ أهلَ السّلط -على اختلافهم- قصّتان: واحدةٌ مع إطلالةٍ على وسط المدينة، وأخرى مع الإطلالة الغربيّة على فلسطين. سآتي على قصّتي الأولى لاحقاً، أمّا الثّانية فقد مضى عليها 15 سنة وباتت هي أيضاً كحلم أميّزهُ وأنكرُه، لولا أنّ عليه شاهدَين أظنّهما عدلَين .

ذات جمعة وبعد صلاة العصر في مسجد الجبيل (جبيل ثابت)، اقترب منّي شيخٌ كبير لم أرَه من قبل. كان طويلاً أسمرَ ذا شاربٍ مهذّب وقوام نحيل. لا أذكر شيئاً يميّزه، ولا أذكر إن عرّف عن نفسه. سألني والشّابّينِ بجانبي من أيّ العائلات نحن، فأجبنا. هنا أغمض عينيه نصف إغماضة لتختفي ملامحُهما تماماً في ظلّ محجريه، وقال لي: “جدّك الحاجّ عبدالله الغفل، وجدّك الآخر أخوه الحاجّ عبدالرّحمن -رحمهما الله-"، وأعادَ الأمرَ ذاته مع رفيقيّ فأصاب، وتركنا في حيرة.

قبالة الشّمس -إيّاها- والمنظر الغربيّ -ذاته- لحقني وطلبَ منّي إيصاله بالسّيّارة ليرى قريبة لي عجوزاً كان قد سألني عن أحوالها، ففعلت.. ولم أره بعدها.

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عن اللّوحة:
العنوان: (ذاتَ غروب)
رسم رقميّ.
الأبعاد: 3840 * 2160 بيكسل.

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