Indeed the most divine arts are crafted by the most broken ones..
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The heart that heart knows, oh, so well the sovereignty that can be found,
as needle meets with fabric, for there is no soothing sound.
Whether quiet piecing done by hand or on our sewing machine,
there’s rhythm to our stitches as we sew along each seam.
Those stitches tell the story of our lives as they unfold
as we think of quilts that Grandma made with stories left untold.
The humdrum of our daily lives grows elegant and grand,
when we start to cut the pieces, then stitch the fabric in our hands.
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The red lehanga....
Till the date..
I wore lots of dress.
But one that is close to mine...
The red lehnaga that I wore
when I was nine...
It was not with tag of high price..
But most precious to me...
It was not designed by expert...
But the one close to me...
It was my stitched by mom
And most beautiful it could be....
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My stomach celebrate you all, thanks for the different aroma of life I usually smell from the kitchen.
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The music and all other arts along with craftsmanships, proficiencies and other demonstrations of human logical and conceptual fulfilment contemplated synchronically create culture !!
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In the physics collusion, there is no chemistry of traumatized or any resentments; rather, it is registered and replicated with human craftsmanship that is camping with the traveling of safe science. It is not deliberate, but its algorithm is created for all angles of living patterns with the glory of almighty energy.
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"Corporal actuality entirely incorporates external and internal deduction, for human craftsmanship is an association of informative cooperation through all the verbs that keep on altering physicality along with exterminating it."
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