Thanking the wiser self

Thanksgiving fall

I have a wiser self.

The one that acts as the soothing inner voice when I miss an exit on the longest highway. The one that asks me to check myself on the mirror once in a while and fix the flaws, not hide them.

The one that tells me to live silently, work on things that matter in the mundane world. The one that suggests me to be a true friend to friends and  to be present in each others’ lives, for years, not for a month or a year, not only on Facebook. Continue reading


Somewhere but here..

The flying sky of fall

A lot has happened since my last post. October has gone. Across the road, the area that was a bright orange pumpkin patch is now a green field selling Christmas trees and glittery ornaments. Christmas gifts have replaced Halloween costumes in all nearby stores. The bright Sun which I hated in last ten months is kind of a kinder friend these days. There was rain in California. Finally. There were autumn leaves floating on the puddle of rain water. There were two whales playing close to the shore when we were driving by the ocean. Something so remarkable yet normal. I observed all. I noted down too. But I could not share. Continue reading


The Art of Green Living


“Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high.” ―  The Princess Bride

I want to say, this is a very bad year. It’s been the worst till now. But most probably I won’t say it, if we meet. Because I’m not that pessimist who wants this year to go soon so that she can dance in the light of next year. I’m an optimist. STILL. Perhaps I am going to utilize the last second of this year to make it less worse, more satisfactory. Continue reading


The time in between


“Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best,” and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Continue reading


At First Blush

First day of fall 2015

I never noticed leaves changing color in September in my neighborhood. September is sunny, and warm mostly. Last week when the temperature dropped, the maple tree in the backyard turned red. But that was not the first hint of blush I saw this month.

Today is officially the first day of the autumn, my favorite season.

There’s something nostalgic and noteworthy about autumn, that’s why I closely monitor the transformation of nature through my lens. It’s that season, ″that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness–that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.” Continue reading


A sign by the road

a sign

On one of those hot days during Labor day weekend, I was on road. The plan was to escape to a colder place. There was a little art shop showing off this sign from far. Of course I had to take a break and sprint to the shop to explore more. I love random signs. I love them more when they appear without any notice and stir my realizations. Continue reading


Hello September!


I am not fond of California summer. Staying indoor, drinking ice cold juices, reading thrillers, gardening- they are my most favorite summer weekend activities. I know everyone else just loved roaming in the sun like a free new born butterfly. I was not one of them this summer. So when September knocked on the door, the first thing I did was making lists:  travel plans, and list of things I want to photograph.  Continue reading


It’s okay to not be okay

Girl by the ocean

Someday, somewhere, it just happened. The sun escaped to the back side of Ghirardelli  square. Those men sang a song while moving the direction of another cable car. At the intersection of Stockton and Sutter, some girls spoke tirelessly about all the deals some brands offered. A lady in a black suit passed by when you were trying to capture the waterfall falling to the ocean. Nobody noticed all that your eyes noticed. Nobody noticed the veil of sadness beyond your thick mascara and your artful persona. Continue reading

The voice for the silence

A view of the ocean

“How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.”
― Virginia Woolf, The Waves

Continue reading


This is why we are here


I put my head right in front of the blue light of the desktop screen,
my eyes set on various pages, one where the work is done, one where

the world makes friendship with perfect human beings, one where I secretly note
down grocery list and things that I have to finish before it’s too late. Continue reading


Library, The Quiet World Of Stories

libraryOnce in a while, when people around me go to exotic locations or restaurants to celebrate holidays, I step into a library. The city library is heaven. I mean, if heaven exists, then it looks like a big library, with old books and well cushioned armchairs.

Once in a while I sit here and write out many things. I call them “word tears” from the eyes of the soul. Drop by drop. Word by word. Those words are solitude lovers, they hardly travel. They are hidden somewhere in a pretty peony printed diary. Continue reading

Six Lessons from My Dad

Duck Dyansty

These days I remember what Umberto Eco said in “Foucault’s Pendulum“. I remember it too many times.

I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren’t trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom.”

Today, I am guest posting at Eli’s popular place Coachdaddyblog, and talking about my father and the lessons I learned from him. So please stop by, show your support, and help me cheering for all good fathers of this world. This is the link to click. Continue reading




Does anything
cut deeper than love?
Like glory, your scars 
envelop your pride.
And the lessons you 
learn are fluffy, left to 
feed hungry philosophers,
and budding poets
who spend extra words
to seek meanings. Continue reading