Soapstones

The moment I fell in love. And then I saw my aunt fall in love. And just moments later, as the German lady joined us at the stall, we saw her fall in love. We were all falling and it was all looking at the beautiful hearts carved out of soapstone.

What a stone! Named so for its ‘dry bar of soap’ feel, it is that solid yet soft stone that has been able to make it through many centuries and cultures. Also forming part of African art, these are a common stone used to carve animal figures, contemporary abstracts and more.

So as we stood looking over kiosks and kiosks of soapstone art at the African pavilion of the Global Village, I was especially taken by the quirky heart shapes.

Bold and bearing different patterns, I couldn’t help but picture them adding that unique edge to my living room. Be it a log cabin look, country living, urban chic; warmth is what they have in common and hearts are that perfect addition to a blend of endearing elements that make for a warm home.

I would say, those peculiar little amusements are an absolute must-have. You must be wondering 'now where am I going to get a hold of these given the Global Village will return only next year?' Well I stumbled upon a place where you can find soapstone art apart from the Global Village. A little kiosk at Ibn Batutta Mall is where it’s at.

Happy shopping :-)

Bits & bobs - more images

Back with some more designs from my craft corner.

You might want to start picking out your colors for the doilies.

This, here is a little froggie to hang in your kiddy's bedroom. Or even in your own if you fancy a smile everytime your eyes fall upon it. What shapes and colors would you like?

Personal touch, bits and bobs

When I enter my home after a long day at work, the last thing I want is to feel alienated. Maybe I am far from having the perfectly pristine décor that one fishes out from home style magazines, but at the end of the day my home should speak to me, laugh with me and share the same jokes as I do.

Which brings me to the point - how connected are you to your home? Does it reflect your personal touch?

Regarded as a key note in my home tunes, adding a personal touch to your home is something that will differentiate it from the designer ones. That personal touch could radiate from a fetish you have, or with a little help from friends and the media, it could be ignited in your mind as a new fascination. Regardless, a personal touch is your touch - how and where you grab a hold of it, well that’s simply your eye and desire for the finer things in life.

That said, we sometimes face roadblocks - we may sit to daydream of those inspiring shops in the magazines that may be inaccessible to us. Where do we find those cute little things that feed our fascinations? Dropping things into an online shopping cart could be most absurd given shipping charges sometimes exceed the actual product bill!

Let me make it perhaps a tad bit simpler. I’ve got working on a few things that you might like. Stuff that I was way too interested in to rely on costly web shopping and merely drooling over magazines.

I started out being inspired by Grandma’s doilies to designing and beading them together. All thanks to my super talented aunt, she showed me the basics and then there was no stopping me. Beads of different sizes, colors and texture, it all made for a perfect doily that could be used to cover a jug or glass. Here’s your cue to call me if you want some of this :-)

My curiosity for bits and bobs went on further as I picked out little embellishments that could be used against cottage home looks, earthy flavors or rustic moments. Still in the initial stages of designing these tiny fellows, I’ve already started hanging them around my dining chairs and in the kitchen. Here’s your cue to call me if you want some of this :-)

That’s it for now folks.

Until the next Home Story, watch this space.

The label called Home Stories

Home stories are aplenty. Unique decor perspectives, pets and pests, cleanliness and godliness. This here is a label where you will find more of all that kind of stuff.

Stay tuned J

Mighty small

Pointless path we set forth on

Whimsical routes of self-appraisal

When there is nothing quite there to praise

Momentary charge, feeling large

When indeed you are a tiny spec of salt

Feeling mighty, singing through life

All the while getting the very meaning of life, wrong

Leaping towards the ungettable

Desiring the unforgettable

Sleeping with the untouchable

Who knows what thread ties your skin together

Silly scruples creeping slow

Move away from this rising star

Why a star? Why this far?

Logic denied, we carry with us our misdemeanours

Failing logic, we stand oblivious

Tokyo Madness

Hello again, destruction, that strikes this time as an 8.8 magnitude on the bustling city of Tokyo. The rich city, the forward one where life progressed at fascinating measures, set backward now. People scurrying through any still standing streets, automobiles rushing down bridges waiting anxiously to be swallowed by the 10 meter high tsunami. You have indeed made your presence felt.

Ships and masts and homes and livelihoods, you have awakened those fears in people that slept silently in the centre of their souls. Fires raging through the city they called home, how many hours do we expect your company? How many families do we expect you will rip to shreds? How many years will you set us back by?

Power cuts across four million homes, no ways in which to escape this city that stands under pacific waters. This was my home, he thought whilst standing on the fifth floor of the parking. As white flags hang from several balconies, panic moves each heart and soul.

Sorry for your suffering. You have lost family, you have lost offices and history; you have lost faith. Yet you run for this thing called life, not knowing the real reason why.

I cried

Scorching tears stung their way down burning cheeks. Trembling self, aching mind, these were tears for all the wrong in the world. Me, I cried last night.

I cried for all the destruction and corruption that plagues each continent, each city and everyone’s homes. Where there is no peace and man walks proud turning each life over his portly shoulders. No refuge from the protesting souls, no telling where each one’s politics is headed.

I cried for all the illiterateness that crowds over 700 million worldwide, they do not know any better and wade through life being exploited. They stand to command when they have no common knowledge of rights, no clue of what each day’s newspaper reads. Choosing losing battles, they continue to live poorly and eat from barren lands.

I cried for the diseased, those sickly ones and their families. They plead and search for cures, they hold on to the sickly with aching hearts, gripping every last thread of hope. Hoping their son will sit strong again, hoping their lives will be like in the 80’s again, hoping to be able to smile again.

I cried for all the crime that lurks in everyone’s back garden, in all dark alleys and in twisted, evil minds. The unsafe world that this has become, chances are that each and every soul would have a story to tell.

I cried for the lack of humanity that sits conceited on every other man’s brow. Those fallen souls who thrive on disrupting a fellow man’s home, whose minds that successfully shut out the interference of emotion; they are the ones who laugh at their brother’s misfortune. Pretentiously considering himself as king of the world, he knows not how tiny a speck of dust he really is.

I cried for the deceased who have travelled upwards and into the heavens. Who left families behind, and sorrows that will only be forgotten in time. And as the sorrows fall one by one, it will be the joyous moments that will linger still.

With my head held low and tears in my eyes, there is no saying where life is headed. We look ahead, prayer on our tongues.