Pity those who have rotten hearts for they will only have the scent of their decayed corpses, corpses of their envy,their anger and their greed!

The Naked Self Gazing into the mirror, looking at our own reflection, the same image is shown, nothing unusual, and at a particular moment, we get a glimpse at a different self, a scary dimension of a much darker us, either we escape, or we stand still, frightened of what we see, yet seduced by the emergence of that stranger who lays deep inside of our souls. Who are we really, behind our clothes, behind our words? Who are we when alone, away from the blessed noise that keeps us from us? Who are we without our friends? Without the image they have of us? Are we, who we are, in our own eyes? Do we even know the link that gathers all the multiplicity of our existence? Do we have the courage, to dig deep, and try to meet, the many layers, that form our identity, and find that one thing, that can bring all those dimensions in one peaceful unity? Here we stand naked, just us, no additions, no distractions, no civilization ornaments, no material tails behind us, plain us. Horror to those who fail to see what they are looking at. Alienated from their selves, they are hosts in their own bodies! They are a living lie, hypocrites, presenting that lie to others, molded in the frame of authenticity. The ones that acknowledge that naked self, accept it and thereby try to own it, joy is for them, for they are in possession of their selves, not scared of the silence, treating that self as an unfinished product, a new potential to what they can really become, a new path to overcoming, surpassing their own limits. Cherishers of life, they are. Worthy of their own existence they are, and earning to embrace the contradictions of their human emotions and unfold its mystery. Lina Hanna Hanna.

In those noisy moments of silence, when there is no sounds to distract us from us, the voice of silence just gets louder and louder, until it almost turns into distortion, we hide, we run into our inner cave, we try to shut down the sound of nothing, that is haunting us, we go to our cocoon, looking for shelter, running from our inner thoughts, that screams in our head, we want any other sound to divert the intensity of this quiet atmosphere that surrounds us… The night time is our enemy, where there is no more car horns, no more other persons words to kill the silence, and break the ice, no television to amuse us, no movement , just us behind our closed doors, and right before that second we close our eyes on our day, we struggle before we can surrender to our pillow, anything but that Horrible silence, where you can hear your words but not your voice, or the blessing that lies between listening to others thoughts, that save us from fighting our demons of silence. Blessed is the noise that kidnaps our self consciousness, and immigrates our thoughts to the never land where we want them to be locked forever. Blessed is the noise that leaves us numb, those other voices, that saves our existence from the nothingness, from the questions of where to? And ask why me? Or will it ever be? Or how could it be? Or how could I have let this happen? What does the future hold for me? Many of the questions, which we do not like to even think about, just pop out in the loud moments of silence, and lurks there trying to feed from our fear, from our complexes, from our weaknesses, brave is he who can listen and hear when the lights go out!

why live with your body and someone else's Brains?

may the gates to the putrid heart be opened to let the light in, to replace rot with clean unpolluted air, to flash out all venemous residues from that heart so he may become the heart that was destined to become!