#moroccan pottery

[mystephaniewilderuniverse]

Not Too Bright

Perfect tote to take to work, but only if your boss doesn’t speak French. My motto is ignorance is bliss. I prefer to keep my knowledge on a “need to know” basis, especially when it comes to my finances, and my attitude is always it’s better not to know too much. As long as the bank isn’t sending notices about my spending more than I have in my account, I figure I’m good. I’ll also admit that I…

[paulpingminho]

[poguehearted77]

Lights, Camera, Action!

Summary-> It's your first day on set and your nerves are through the roof but the cast makes you feel at home. You practice your lines, but the sparks between you and Drew are unscripted.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

You're jet-lagged, but your body has no idea. Too distracted from the abundance of nerves pumping through your veins as you walked around the enormous film lot toward the set.

You stand on the edge of the bustling Moroccan set, heart pounding as you clutch your sides. The scarf draped over your head feels both like a costume and a shield, helping you blend into the character you’re about to bring to life. Even with the months of preparation and the script readings under your belt, this moment feels surreal.

Everyone hustled across the set with purpose, knowing exactly what their job was and how to do it. You had only a fraction of that confidence as you were approached by a familiar face, one of the directors, Josh Pate.

"I can sense your anxiety from a mile away." He teases and it pulls a smile and a small breath of relief that he was friendly. With a comforting hand on your shoulders, "Take a deep breath, go grab a muffin from craft, have some water and I'll see you back here for your scene in 20, alright? I don't need any more faintings on the clock."

Once the words process, he's already gone. Fainting?? More??? With dazed eyes, your eyes scan the environment, dozens of people dressed just like you. Some sitting on the sidelines while others got into place on set. You'd even spotted Madelyn off to the side, a make-up artist lightly padding her face to protect it from the lighting as she prepared for her scene.

You took Josh's suggestion seriously, and promptly, or at least you tried to. You had no idea where to find crafts services or even if you'd be able to find your way back. "Craft Services is the first door on your left." Your head whips around with a face of slight terror in your eyes at the mind-reader from behind you. It's JD.

"How did you know?" It's the first thing you say, slight amusement and a hint of awe evident in your voice. He shrugs, "You were either looking for craft or the bathroom. It was a 50/50 shot, to be honest." He laughs and it calms your nerves a little. After a little while and a good conversation with JD, you glanced at the clock on the wall.

It became apparent you didn't have much time left. Quickly you end the conversation and head inside the room he'd directed you to. The studio was warm, credit to the Morrocan heat that surrounded you on the outside.

"Cups, cups, cups.." You mutter to no one in particular as you desperately scan for the item you need. "Here you go," A big hand is outstretched in front of you with a new cup dwarfed in its palm.

Your eyes followed up the length of the arm until they met those famous ocean-blue eyes that owned your TikTok feed for months last fall. Drew. He has the infamous buzz and soft smile as he looks down at you.

"Thank you," It's a simple response but it's the best you can do in a situation like this. Turning away from him, you fill your cup and finish its contents in nearly one sip before tossing it and rushing back to set not wanting to be late.

You rush back to set, still feeling the phantom warmth of Drew’s presence. For a moment, you wonder if this strange mix of tension and excitement is something all new actors feel or if it’s just you. The scarf draped over your head has now become a makeshift security blanket, as much for your nerves as for your character.

Josh greets you with a reassuring thumbs-up as you step into position, the antique shop set sprawling around you with meticulous detail. Dusty shelves lined with ornate trinkets, cracked pottery, and rusted brass figurines fill the space, dimly lit to convey the musty atmosphere of a forgotten bazaar. The air smells faintly of incense, which only adds to the immersion.

As the Pogues enter the set, Madelyn offers you a friendly wink, her playful energy making the tension in your shoulders ease. You remember bumping into her at one of your meetings with the writers. She's as pure as her character and it was relieving to see a friendly face on set.

Chase gives you a nod of encouragement, while Jonathan seems almost shocked to see you, probably since you'd never mentioned who you would be playing. He sends you a motion of acknowledgement anyway and you smile back.

The cameras start rolling, and suddenly, you are no longer you. As though it were a chemical reaction to the words 'Action', your brain switches to the character you've studied for months in anticipation. No longer Y/n, now Piper.

You busy yourself behind the counter. Attending to the tasks that depend on you as the owner of your antique shop. Your focus is set on the vase in your hands as you sweep over its rim with a cloth.

The bell of the shop chimes as six foreigners enter the shop, standing in a crowd with some of the most grim expressions you'd ever seen. "Vases on the left, woodwork on the right. Let me know if you have any questions." The phrase sounds ingenuine as it has only been repeated every day for the last three years.

"We're not here for some fucking pottery-" Rafe claps his hands down on the counter, you don't react. Sarah corrects him, "Rafe." You look back to the bunch, now standing at your full height,

They were filthy, covered in sand, dirt, and essentially any other grime that could find them. "We need supplies." Sarah says and you shrug, "What did you have in mind? Glasses? Lamps? Clocks?" The group lets out a frustrated set of sounds.

Pope clears his throat, "We need weapons, and we were told to come find you... the pied piper." You tug down the fabric that'd been covering your face to the bridge of your nose. Unveiling the full length of the scar that begins in the center of your forehead, runs down over your left eye and reaches your cheek.

John B whispers, "Just like he said," You make him speak up, "Just like who said. Who sent you?" He steps closer, "Mr. Alami, the merchant from Agapenta. He said you would be able to help us." Your expression elicits a sign of understanding but quickly returns to disinterest.

"I don't help foreigners." The explosive one outbursts again, "You sound just like we do, clearly you're not from here either, so stop shitting us and give us the guns." Those cobalt orbs penetrate the window of your soul but only bring out the sinister grin on Piper's face. "Fine," Swiftly reaching behind your back, revealing the weapon they so desperately wanted, you hold them at gunpoint.

"-And Cut!" You place the gun down on the counter and Drew approaches the counter once again. "That was really good, I even got caught up in it." He places a hand on his chest to add sincerity.

"Thank you so much. I was really nervous for today, I had no idea what to expect." Someway somehow your conversation moves off to the side of the set, seated on those acting chairs.

You laugh as he brings up your fleeting encounter earlier, "I had no idea you were playing Piper. One second I handed you a cup and I turned around and you're gone." Your stomach hurts from laughing. You take a deep breath of air to stop yourself from dying. "Stop stop stop," You beg, neither of you sure what you were laughing about anymore.

There wasn't much time until you would resume the scene but in the short time, Jonathan and Carlacia invited themselves over, giving a proper introduction, sparking a lively group conversation. Being 26 put you somewhere in the middle of the cast's ages, but no one got treated any differently because of it.

This current moment was proof. You and Carlacia posed for a selfie she insisted on taking, honouring the 'newest member' into their family. Both leaning in over the image on her screen you share a hearty laugh. JD is captured in the background in the middle of a gnarly yawn.

"Give me the phone, Lacy. That picture is a federal offence." He threatens, not an ounce of seriousness to be sensed in his voice. "I demand justice." You're almost certain you'd have a fully developed six-pack by the end of filming just from all the laughing.

Before you knew it the break was over and you were back where you'd left off. Went through the scene once more, adjusting anything that needed to be altered and carrying on. "I'm only going to ask you once, what do you want?" You've got a tight grip on the weapon and a crazy look in your eyes.

For the first time, Kiara breaks her silence. "Chandler Groff killed our friend! We can't let him get away with it." Her pleas pique your interest, and it's evident in your expression. "Chandler Groff, The conman?" They nod slowly and you begin to fume.

"Come." You wave them over, whipping open the curtains and entering the back of your shop. Four walls filled with various weapons from swords to machine guns. "Feeling like a kid in a candy store." Cleo beams, looking at the options, nothing but revenge in mind.

"Is that a canon?.." Pope trails off, "You've gotta be ready for anything. Expect the unexpected." Pope wholeheartedly agrees while John B begins questioning your knowledge about Groff. "He wronged some friends of mine. He got away before I could get to him, and that was a good call. I would've blown his brain to bits if I got my hands on him."

Kie smiles at that mention, "That's the dream," John B mutters. "Last time he was here, he was after some magical relic, a mythical one might I add. The blue... crest?" The item is lost on you when Sarah fills in. "The blue crown." It dawns on you at the mention.

"It's real," Kie admits and all the pogues turn to her with horror at her honesty. "Groff has it and god knows where he could be with it." You think, "If what you're telling me is true... then that crown is worth hundreds of millions of dollars. He can't just sell it at any auction. There's only one person with money like that. Mr. Finch."

"Where can we find him?"

"He's far. A two-day journey at minimum. You'll be forced to cross enemy territory and only locals know how to navigate the oasis under the radar. If you really are set on killing Groff, I'd be happy to lead you."

You notice an exchange of various looks between the group. "We need a second." Suddenly there's an exclusive huddle that leaves both you and the tall man at odds. He was sending daggers towards you. "Too cool to be part of their little club, are you?" Rafe stalks towards you, long intimidating strides. Displeased with your little joke.

Your faces were close enough that you could see his pupils dilate and contract now in the light from the window. "Listen. I've heard everything you said, and I'm not buying it. I don't trust you, and if you think for even a second I'll let you get in my way, you've got another thing comin'."

You noticeably gulp, it was unscripted but your nerves propelled it. He towered over you, your dark brown eyes searching his blue ones for any signs of insincerity but none was to be found. Every word he said, he meant it.

"And Cut! Drew, Y/n, amazing," Josh adds, and it's only when you hear your names called that you both back away from each other. However, it felt a little harder than normal, as if something was drawing you in.

Madison calls you over, and your feet are already on the move. With one last glance over your shoulder, your eyes meet his for just a moment.

His piercing eyes hold yours, a mix of curiosity and something unspoken flickering behind them, making your chest tighten with uncertainty. You can see it—he feels it too.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza

[najia-cooks]

فخارة العدس / Fukharat l'adas (Palestinian clay-pot lentils)

The name of this dish comes from "فَخَّار" ("fakhar"), meaning "pottery," and "عَدَس" ("'adas"), meaning "lentils." It is traditionally cooked in a قدرة ("qedra," clay pot) made from clay refined from local soil and shaped in family-owned pottery workshops. This type of pot is also used to make a lamb and rice dish of the same name commonly eaten in Gaza and Hebron. The qedra is filled with the cooking ingredients, sealed with a flour-water paste or with aluminum foil, and placed in a wood-fired oven—or buried in an earth oven—to cook for several hours, or even overnight.

This simple dish cooks red lentils with yellow onion, olive oil, and cumin to produce a smooth, earthy stew; additional olive oil and fresh lemon juice squeezed on after cooking add freshness and a tart lift, and شطة (shatta, red chili paste) is spooned in for heat.

As of 2019, the number of families producing qedra in Gaza had decreased from 40 or 50 to 3 or 4, according to workshop owner Sabri Attallah. The Israeli blockade which began in 2007 closed off foreign markets for Palestinian qedras, while cheaper, metal imports cut in on the local market. When the pots are exported to Israel, the multiple checkpoints and mandatory searches between Gaza and Israel cause many of them to break. The compression of Palestinians into small areas by Israeli government and settlers also spells problems for the qedra industry, as the smoke caused by firing pots reduces air quality for nearby residents. Many consider pottery-making to be both an integral part of Palestinian identity, and to be dying out: thus the targeting of Palestinians' economic self-determination targets cuisine and culture as well.

Today, Israeli weapons threaten Palestinian existence. Palestine Action has called for bail fund donations to aid in their storming, occupying, shutting down, and dismantling of factories and offices owned by Israeli arms manufacturer Elbit Systems.

For the lentils:

1 cup split red lentils, rinsed

1 yellow onion, chopped

3 Tbsp olive oil

1 tsp cumin seeds, toasted and ground

Salt, to taste

About 3 cups water

For the shatta (شطة):

100g (about 1 cup) fresh red chili peppers

2 tsp table salt

2 Tbsp olive oil

To serve:

Olive oil

Juice of 1/2 lemon, or to taste

Sweet peppers, radishes, spring onions, pickles, olives, leafy greens, shatta (red chili pepper paste).

Instructions:

For the shatta:

1. Wash peppers and remove stems. Use a mortar and pestle, food processor, or potato ricer to reduce peppers to a paste.

2. Add salt and stir. Add olive oil and stir. Store extra shatta in a jar in the fridge; cover with a thin layer of olive oil to avoid spoiling.

For the lentils (in the oven):

1. Coat the inside a piece of clay cookware of sufficient size, such as a Palestinian qedra or a Moroccan tanjia or tajine, with olive oil. Add the rest of the ingredients, followed by enough water to cover the lentils by at least an inch (about 3 cups). Make sure that the opening of the pot is completely covered (e.g. with a layer of aluminum foil, and then the pot's lid).

2. Place the clay pot in your oven and then heat it to 500 °F (260 °C).

3. Reduce the heat to 150 °F (65 °C) and cook for 2-3 hours, until lentils are mushy.

For the lentils (on the stovetop):

1. Heat olive oil in the base of your clay cookware, or a large pot. Add onions and cumin and fry briefly.

2. Add water and lentils and cook, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes on medium.

3. Lower heat to low and cook for another 30 minutes, until consistency is smooth and mushy. Add water as necessary.

To serve:

Transfer lentils to individual serving bowls. Top with lemon juice and olive oil. Serve alongside shatta (which you may choose to spoon into your bowl) and fresh vegetables.

[coolancientstuff]

The prehistoric Cueva Pintada (Painted Cave) located on the island of Grand Canary in the Canary Islands archipelago. The cave was discovered by accident in 1862 during agricultural digging work. When it was first found, it contained skeletons, pottery and other utensils. The paintings themselves consist of precisely delineated geometrical patterns painted in ochre, a pigment derived from minerals. Archaeologists think that, due to their regular distribution (usually in series of twelve), they could be a sort of calendar. They were created by the Canarii, the indigenous inhabitants of the island prior to the Spanish invasion in the 15th century. The Canarii (also known as the Guanche) were of North African origins, and genetic testing of their mummies found they were closely related to Moroccans, Berbers and Spaniards.

The first carbon-14 analysis made on the cave was on the wall paintings. This gave no results because the paint used carried no trace of carbon, being entirely non-organic. Some vegetal remains of a plant from the family Lauraceae were found in the mortar in the walls. These remains were dated between 1049 and 1257 BCE. Some fragments of pine wood were dated between 601 and 994 CE.

[blueiscoool]

Chinese Porcelains Recovered From Centuries-Old Shipwreck Head to Auction

The porcelain vessels spent over 300 years at the bottom of the South China Sea.

Trawling the seabed near the south coast of Vietnam in 1989, a Vietnamese fisherman stumbled upon the remains of the wreck of a ship that was traveling from China to Jakarta when it sunk some three centuries before. Among the haul, which included everyday items like bamboo combs, tweezers, and dice, were a whopping 48,288 pieces of Qing dynasty porcelain. In Jakarta, traders of the globe-spanning Dutch East India Company had planned to transport the vessels to Holland. Some 28,000 were sold at a 1992 Christie’s auction in Amsterdam, their likely planned destination, for a total of $7.3 million.

Now, on October 10, a group of 20 of these vases, with all their historic resonance, is being offered in an online auction at Stair Galleries, in Hudson, New York, which handles traditional furniture and fine art. Ranging between five to eight inches-high and displaying intricate floral patterns typical of traditional Chinese pottery, the group bears a very modest high estimate of $1,200.

The “Vung Tau Cargo,” so called for the Vietnamese coastal city of Vũng Tàu, near which it was discovered, has had a notable history since it was raised from its watery grave by the state-owned Vietnam Salvage Corporation in a joint venture with none other than the famed Swedish treasure hunter Sverker Hallstrom.

As for the porcelain booty that wasn’t auctioned off at Christie’s Amsterdam in 1992, some went to Hallstrom’s personal collection, other pieces to the Vietnamese government. Others still fell into the hands of Alberto Pinto, a Parisian photographer and interior designer of Jewish-Moroccan origin, who acquired them at Sotheby’s in 1999. Pinto would then sell the 20 vessels now being offered at Stair at another Christie’s auction in 2006.

“Wear consistent with age and use,” the company’s online listing notes of the condition of the pieces, dryly enough in view of their history. It notes that five of the beakers have chipped rims, repairs or hairline cracks. Four of the vases and covers have some chips in the rims or feet, a few of them large. “Otherwise in good condition,” said the house.

“Some trademarks of ‘cargo porcelain’ have a somewhat cloudy appearance and in some cases encrustations of marine life,” said Lauren Anderson, director of exposition sales at Stair, adding that the cargo was “very fashionable with interior designers” like Pinto. Throughout his life but especially after becoming wealthy and successful, Pinto was known as a passionate collector of antique tableware, acquiring cutlery, porcelain, and linen from both Europe and Asia. (His collection also includes furniture, statues, and a sizable survey of Impressionist paintings, including Édouard Vuillard’s 1921 Lucien Guitry.)

By Tim Brinkhof.

[sims-with-soul]

CAPPADOCIA CLAY 𐃡

functional pottery & art studio, sims 4 build cc

✨ [watch the full tour below!]

Welcome to Cappadocia Clay 🌞 a serene place to relax and create some beautiful ceramics, pottery & art in the gorgeous Oasis Springs in The Sims 4.

I was inspired by Turkish and Moroccan interior design, and also bohemian, artsy elements which is my absolute favourite aesthetic!

This is very CC heavy (5gb) so I wasn’t sure if I should upload the tray files & cc list? Let me know if you’d like it!?

Lots of love and light, Sims with Soul 🏺

[friendswithclay]

Moroccan pottery

[finkinthisfrew]

Anything (Pt.14)

A Matty Healy Fanfic

Chapter 14 We were sitting on Matty's patio the next morning, drinking our iced coffees that he'd grabbed us from the coffee shop downstairs when Matty's phone began to ring. He answered the phone, placing it between his shoulder and ear while he used his hands to light a cigarette.

The patio we sat on was gorgeous- luscious, green and private. Along one side was the giant wall of windows that looked into the living space, on the other was a tall concrete wall covered in greenery. There were potted plants scattered all over, all happy and thriving considering the gloomy weather London was known for. A large set of dark wood and soft beige linen patio furniture sat in the centre of the patio, along with a giant faded pink and orange Moroccan-style outdoor rug underneath. An old wrought-iron staircase adorned one end of the patio, leading up to likely the roof, peppered with even more small potted plants.

It was an especially sunny and warm day. We'd just finished eating breakfast when we'd decided to go bask in the sunshine with our coffees before Matty's phone rang. I savoured his little frown of concentration while on the phone, the way his cheeks hollowed as he took a drag on his cigarette.

I held out my hand, requesting a drag. He wagged his finger at me, and I gave him my best pout in response. A small smile appeared on his face and he shook his head before reluctantly holding out the cigarette.

"Just one puff!" I mouthed at him, holding up a single finger as I reached to take it cigarette. He snatched my finger before I could retract it and placed a big kiss on the tip of it, before letting it go with a smile. He handed me it, holding up his own single finger, mouthing, "Just one." I inhaled the smoke, then as I exhaled, attempted to blow rings. All but the last attempts failed. Matty applauded silently at the successful ring, giving my knee a light squeeze before taking back the cigarette.

After another few minutes on the phone, he gave me a look of boredom. He looked so handsome in his sunglasses and bedhead, the cigarette now perched between the two fingers that held his coffee, the other lazily tracing circles on my thigh which hung over his lap. In addition to the sunglasses, he wore an oversized black hoodie and a pair of boxer shorts. My outfit matched his, as I had donned a pair of his boxers that morning too, in addition to his favourite blue hoodie.

I watched Matty's face break into a wide grin as he spoke to the mystery person on the other end of the call. He turned to look at me, throwing a fist in the air and shaking it in celebration, then excitedly grabbing my thigh and shaking it, making me laugh.

He said his farewells to the person on the phone before he turned to me, tossing the phone on the seat beside him.

"I've got wonderful news. Our videographer has the flu!" Matty said cheerily.

I raised my eyebrows at Matty.

"I'm sorry... am I missing something? Why are we happy that they're sick?" I asked in confusion.

"That means I have the entire day free! All I had today was this video shoot, but we have to postpone, so now we get to hang out instead!" Matty said enthusiastically.

I laughed at Matty, charmed by his excitement.

"Matty, that sounds like a dream come true, but I have to go to the studio today!" I reminded him.

"Well, can I come with you? How long do you have it booked for today?" he asked eagerly.

"Only five hours today, but it won't be very entertaining. There isn't much else to do at the studio aside from pottery. Plus, I really don't think I'll get much done if you come with me." I reasoned with him.

Matty pulled a grumpy face, and I reached out my hand to squeeze his.

"Five hours is much too long to be apart..." he said, hanging his head off the back of the couch in frustration, "but I understand. I won't pester you. I guess I should be responsible and work on the new album today now that I have some free time," he said rolling his head to one side to look at me with a smile. "Maybe I could come for the last half hour? You could give me a tour and maybe show me some of your work?" he asked hopefully.

My heart melted at his request to see my work and my studio. It felt so nice to have someone so genuinely interested in my craft.

"Of course, babe. I'd love that," I said with a smile.

Matty hummed a sound of pleasure. "I love when you call me that," he said before taking another drag from his cigarette, blowing out several perfect smoke rings.

"Let me try again," I said, reaching my hand out, but he didn't pass me the cigarette this time.

"Look, now I know you are a grown woman who can do as she pleases, and I would buy you a thousand cartons of these if they didn't cause cancer, but I will not let my nasty addiction become your new hobby."

I once again gave him a small playful pout, and he took his sunglasses off to reveal a pair of warm brown pair of saddened eyes.

"Oh please, Anna. I know I'm being unfair, but let me be a hypocrite just this once?"

I rolled my eyes at him, knowing he was right. "Oh, fine." I huffed, dropping my hand. I didn't want my hobby of making shapes with smoke to become an addiction that could ruin my lungs. Besides, I didn't really care that much. I mostly just liked that we were doing something together.

He smiled at me and picked up my hand, kissing the back of it. "How can I make it up to you? I feel bad telling you no. World's your oyster- what would you like?" he asked sincerely, his doe eyes locked onto mine.

"Hmmm," I pondered out loud. "Maybe a back rub?" I offered.

"Not an expensive dinner at a Michelin-star restaurant? Or a trip to Paris? Or a night under the stars in the Sahara?" he said, brow furrowing. "If you could do anything, what would it be?"

I laughed, then once again realized he wasn't joking. "I mean, I'm happy with dinner and a movie at yours tonight?"

"That's it?" he asked bluntly.

"Well... I'd also like the back rub." I said with a smile, nudging him lightly with my knee. He looked confused, so I explained. "I don't really care what we do, I just want to spend time with you. We could go have dinner in the Italian countryside, or go swimming off the coast of Mykonos, or go eat sushi in Tokyo, or we could sit in my living room and stare at each other in silence for four hours and I'd be happy either way..." I shrugged. "-although I'd rather it not be in silence if I get to choose... I like talking to you too much... but my point is, all I care about is spending time with you. The rest doesn't matter to me."

Matty stared at me in silence, then turned his head away, looking at the far end of the patio. I felt his energy change, so I tapped the back of his hand with my finger and asked, "Hey, is everything alright?"

He dropped his head, and I felt a splash on my hand. A tear had fallen, and I could see his lower lip tremble slightly.

"Hey-" I said, sitting up quickly. I shuffled over to him on my knees and sat down in his lap, taking his face in my hands. The way he looked up into my eyes broke my heart, eyes wet, brow creased, another tear streaking down his face. I wiped his cheek gently with my thumb. "What's wrong?" I asked delicately.

He shook his head, then wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in. I hugged him back as he burrowed his face into the crease of my neck. He held me so tightly. I ran my fingers along the back of his neck and through his hair as he stifled quiet sobs. We sat there quietly holding each other as I waited.

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucked up..." he whispered in my ear.

"Shhh, shhh, don't say that," I said soothingly. "You're perfect."

At this he squeezed me even tighter, so I squeezed him back.

After a few minutes, he loosened his grip, and I pulled my head back slightly to look at him. He kept his head hung low, taking a breath to speak.

"I've... I've never dated someone who doesn't want something from me. Whether that's money, fame, music, drama, or the idea of me... Everyone always expects something of me," he said, voice shaking in frustration and emotion. "And I've spent so much of my life playing the part- like my life is one big play... because it's my job to... and it's made all my personal relationships so toxic. People expect something from me, and it melts my brain trying to dance between reality and expectation because my job is my reality... It drives me mad. I'm sorry if none of this is making sense," he shook his head, eyes hiding from mine.

"No, no. You're making perfect sense," I said reassuringly. I nodded my head encouragingly at him as his eyes peeked up at me briefly.

"I try to be myself but I can't set boundaries, because you can't in this industry. So I play into them- exaggerate everything so that no one can really know who I am. Not truly." He took my hand into his and began to fiddle with my fingers anxiously. He took another deep breath, gaining more confidence. "You don't know, but publically I'm a bit of a bad boy. I play into the character a lot- as my own form of protest kind of... I don't let people know what's authentic and what's not because fame and celebrity performance are all so meaningless, yet people attach so much meaning to it all... And I guess it's a bit of a defence mechanism as well... if I'm not myself then I can never truly be to blame for anything..."

He lifted his head, his watery eyes looking deep into mine.

"But now with you, I feel like I don't have to act. Like the play is over... You don't expect anything from me... You just want me." his voice faltered, wobbling with emotion. He sniffed loudly, then carried on determinedly. "You don't just make me feel like myself- you let me see myself for who I truly am, which is something I forgot was even possible. Being with you is amazing, fun, exciting and all these wonderful things. But amongst all that, it's also a giant relief, and in moments is disorientating. I only now realize just how emotionally exhausted I've been. It feels like I've been running on empty for the last five years and I've only just noticed now."

He looked back and forth between my eyes, searching for something. I placed a hand on his cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Matty. I can't imagine how that must feel..." I said sincerely. I took a breath to continue, but he interrupted me.

"But you do, Anna. You do know how it feels. Maybe not in the same way, but you had expectations put on you by the people who claimed to love you most, and played the part you thought you had to too. You and I have wanted the same thing- we just want someone to want us for who we are. Not for what we provide or what is expected of us. We just want to be ourselves and to be accepted for who we are. We want truly unconditional love. Real love."

Then, I understood. Truly understood. The emotional exhaustion, the confusion, the fear, the relief... it was all the same. My heart broke even further, for him, as well as myself. My eyes welled, but I wanted to stay strong for him at this moment. That felt important to do.

I looked at him straight on, his chocolate eyes desperate for my understanding. I needed him to know that I understood- that he was right. That I felt the same way. He looked so sad, so hopeful, so handsome, so sincere in his emotion. My chest broke wide open, and I couldn't hold its contents back any longer.

"I love you, Matty. I love you for who you are. Not for what you do, for what you have, for how you act, for how you look... Just for you. Nothing more, nothing less. I love you." I fought back the tears that threatened to fall and watched as his face transformed.

His eyes crinkled in that way I loved, his smile wider than I'd ever seen it. His cheeks reddened, shining from the fresh tears that now fell. His eyes glittered with happiness.

"Anna..." he began, pausing from speechlessness. He stared at me in silence, mouth agape. Then he gathered my face in his hands, and slowly leaned in, placing a long and meaningful kiss on my lips. I kissed him back. The room spun, and suddenly we were in a world full of stars, flying through these emotions together. 

As he pulled away, he tried to look serious, but his face was still stained with his smile from my declaration. He kept holding my face tenderly as he said, "I have never loved anyone or anything as much as I love you, Anna. From the moment I met you, I knew... I just knew. You have given me everything I never knew was even possible. You saved me. Thank you, Anna."

He kissed me again, and again we started to fly. I felt our hearts connect, veins intertwining, becoming one. Every emotion possible swirled around us as we kissed, deeply, love dominating them all. 

He pulled away, looking tenderly into my eyes and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too," I whispered back.

We sat there smiling at each other with big wide dumb grins on our faces. We were drunk in that moment, eyes hazy, minds melted. We were gloriously happy. After a few minutes, I laughed to myself before saying, "Well, we made it- what?- 12 hours before finally saying it? I guess that's not so terrible..." I joked.

His eyes crinkled once more. "I'm pretty impressed with us if I'm being honest. That's better than I expected, don't you reckon?" he said sweetly.

I was overcome with adoration at that moment, leaning in once again to kiss him, still not feeling like I'd had enough. This time, he kissed me back fiercely, a strong intention behind his lips.

He pulled away, resting his forehead heavily against mine, his eyes closed in silence for a moment.

"I'll be careful with your heart, Anna. I promise. If you can be careful with mine too." He whispered to me softly.

I nodded into his forehead, and we sat there bundled in each other's arms whispering 'I love you' over and over again, like we'd finally come home.

[fashionbooksmilano]

Moroccan Decorative Arts

Philippe Saharoff

Assouline,New York 2023, 340 pages, over 300 ilustrations, 27,7x32,5cm, ISBN 9781649802392

euro 250,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Morocco's enduring artistic heritage and craftsmanship are celebrated worldwide. Photographer Philippe Saharoff's three-year exploration captures the nation's vibrant artistry, from Marrakech's leatherwork to Essaouira's woodcraft. This 300-page volume showcases zellige, pottery, metalwork, and more, including exclusive photographs of King Mohammed VI's collection. Moroccan Decorative Arts is the ultimate tribute toM Morocco's craftsmanship.

24/11/23

[sparguscityangel]

spargus city reimagined: architecture

inspirations under the cut

i understand that spargus would need to be efficient and resourceful considering its a desert society of warriors, but i also refuse to think that the citizens wouldn’t make it more appealing. haven is such a rigerous and bleek city, so how cool would it have been to have a sharp juxtaposition of the two? once you leave haven and enter spargus and you were immersed in bright mosaics and frescos and tiles and stainglass.

 taking inspiration from art nouveau (specifically gaudi), moroccan, middle eastern, mesoamerican, and minoan cultures, i think spargus would build their homes and community lots with the idea of blending into the environment around them. tumblr only lets me put 9 images but i would’ve also like to have explored a little bit more of polynesian influences such as palm leaf weaving, cuisine, ect.

i pictures colorful tapestries and pottery and miles of spice baskets in the bazzar with some spargans being in a more artistic trade. i could see maybe an npc sitting outside a shop and handpainting tiles for door frames or stair steps. so many cultures who live in the desert are colorful and brimming with art, so why should spargus be any different?

[moroccantastics]

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[annachum]

Okay so my HC of Book! Hermione Granger is that she is of Moroccan and Jewish descent

. My HC is that Hermione's dad Vincent Burhan - Granger is Moroccan British, and her mother Helene Deschamps is French

. Hermione also has Jewish heritage from her mom ( who is of Jewish descent )'s side

. Actually Hermione also got Jewish descendancy from both of her parents' sides btw

. Hermione definitely got her dark brown bushy hair and bronze skin from her father. While her mother has dark honey colored hair and bright brown eyes ( her father has grayish blue eyes )

. And being of Moroccan heritage, She defo got her French fluency from both of her parents

. Given Hermione having Moroccan heritage in her from her Moroccan - British father ( my HC ), she defo regularly teaches her friends Moroccan Arabic and Amazigh, Has several Moroccan traditional attires for fancy events and such, And also I think she also has a love for Moroccan pottery and such

. Hermione got a Star of David necklace from her dad. She regularly wears it around her neck for protection ever since he gave it to her on her 8th birthday

. Hermione defo is also an avid defender of the Moroccan and Jewish community in London ( and to an extent UK and France, really )

. Hermione also defo regularly teaches her friends how to make several Moroccan and Jewish dishes on the reg. In fact, Harry and his friends regularly tell each other about their heritage and cultural related things

. Ron isn't Jewish. But he and Hermione would love to honor their heritages and all with their wedding ( with Ron and his siblings being Welsh - British and all )

. If anyone dares to ask her along the lines of ' So your dad is half Moroccan - why are you white?! '. Cue Hermione, who definitely isn't ' white ' or ' black ', going OFF about the whitewashed AND afrocentric depictions of North Africans in several media and all to those thugs until those thugs back off.

. Her Jewish heritage also literally is a reason why she is so fucking passionate about the rights of house elves and an AVID Anti pureblood supremacist supporter - her Jewish ancestors been through similar shit in WW2 as the Death Eaters regularly had on those who they torment, and Hermione DEFINITELY is not gonna back down on her fight to support anti pureblood supremacy and the rights of house elves.

. Hermione is fluent in Moroccan Arabic, French, Amazigh and Hebrew

. Rose and Hugo Granger - Weasley have their mother's bronze skin and bushy hair texture, and their father's freckles. And they both have dark auburn hair. Rose got her father's blue eyes while Hugo got his mom's bright brown eyes. Bless.

[dil-chaspi]

A guide to exploring the Marrakech souks in Morocco

Step into a tapestry of Moroccan culture at the Marrakech souks. From beautiful handcrafted jewelry to intricate pottery, let us show you the best spots to shop and bargain like a pro.

[saharaimport]

Art and Paintings - Ceramics and Pottery in Berkeley, CA

At Sahara Moroccan Home Décor, you can find an exquisite collection of Antique Art and Paintings in Berkeley, CA. Get the best deals on Ceramics and Pottery.