My miniatures are my little creative pieces on everything and anything that may cross my mind – enjoy!
Brown Bays
There was an undeniable magnetism to their gaze. They were ordinary in colour, yet extraordinary all the same. A splendour of hues, dark and light colliding in the most spectacular storm. A symphony of shades. The soothing warmth of chocolate darkly edged by the sophisticated bitterness of coffee. And splashes of gold that caught in the light, sparking like smouldering embers. Brown eyes. A creation so simple, and yet still so strikingly sensational.
Ingrown Pain
Pain. It is a deep, niggling pain – the kind of pain that isn’t bad enough to write home about, but just enough to slowly drive you over the edge, like that cheesy pop song playing at the back of your mind. It’s there, remaining on the tip of your tongue, threatening to take over despite your unsuccessful efforts to ignore its existence. But no more. You finally realise that life is too short, so you grab a pair of tweezers, mutter a quick prayer, and pull. Pull at the bane of your existence for the past week – that’s right, you tear at your skin until you get to it, and yank like your life depends on it (your sanity is at stake here, so it’s no laughing matter). Finally, it’s over. You are free. The ingrown hair is no more.
A Splash in the Sky
Grab your palette and your paintbrush, and canvas the sight before you. The sun is setting, the sky exploding into a rainbow of sorts; the celestial splash of red popping against the bold strokes of orange and yellow. Then splatter some pink and brush in some purple, and watch them spread and spill into each other as night begins to layer up the sky.
And there you have it – a handsome painting that hangs overhead.
Listen
Close your eyes and listen. Listen to my voice. Listen to the tone, to the tempo, to the timbre.
Listen to the way it shifts and changes in the air; the summer’s kiss that brushes past your cheek spreading euphoria to your fingers and your toes.
Close your eyes and feel. Feel my voice. Feel the caress of the sound, the vibration in the air, the shiver down your spine.
Feel the twists and turns, each word striking a chord – feel the cool on your skin, the goose bumps in its wake.
Feel it.
Feel it and listen.
That Feeling of…
I don’t start off as much – no more than an innocent raspberry blush, a lovely tint on one’s cheek. I stay that way, occasionally traipsing to a deeper lusher rose that sets off one’s complexion. And with all things, I age – like wine – deepening in flavour and complexity. Passion falls into place, blood rising, crimson staining the skin. A love that burns bright – burns brighter than a shooting star, but with all the hope and joy it leaves in its wake.
The Weight of Knowledge
It’s the weight of the world bearing down on me, chiselling at my mind, body, soul. It was nothing at first, but slowly the weight pressed down.
More and more.
I felt it – feel it! – all, my nerves firing like fireworks on the 5th of November. All in a determined, deliberate cacophony. It becomes unbearable – painful even.
I have the weight of knowledge on my lap, numbing my lower limbs – desensitising me. But it’s a stubbornness, see. This is a challenge to complete – to never, ever quit.
And so the textbook will stay where it is.
Taking away the feeling in my legs.
One sensation. At. A. Time.
Hafsa Khalil 