This is one question I promise not to claim to know how to answer accurately! If we were all asked this particular question merely 15 months ago, we’d offer a multitude of possibilities, and neither theory would outline this magical school year! Having said that…let’s ponder aloud…

In the last few funny months, we’ve had to offer exponentially more choice to our students, out of sheer necessity. As challenging as it was in some situations, it afforded us to notice what was there all along that we could have offered without facing a pandemic. …

Did you know that our collective, as well as individual imagination, is experiencing a drought, blocked by dams, our otherwise functional and creative force, depleting. Whether you’re an Engineer, Member of Government, Teacher, or Freelancer, imagination is the foundation in your day to day operations, as well as occasional upgrades and life changing transformations in all fields and industries.

Imagination is the playfulness, and groundbreaking shifts, it’s conflict resolution, and conjuring up the impossible. Imagination is anything, it is everything, permeating all fields and essentially, it is the water that feeds every idea and project, movement and change.

I have…

Thirteen minutes until the athan, I should refresh my ablution, but then I’ll only have four minutes left to vacuum the congregation carpet. How many folks will attend this time? The more the marrier, they say, but I can’t help but gravitate towards…the more the dustier. And carpets are best crevices for hide and seek, no matter the technology. My new bucket holds slightly more water than the one my wife Lamiya gifted me in July, which means I can change the contaminated water a tad less than I used to. I dip the sponge into the grapefruit bubbly water…

Each precious particle that sheds naturally off you is swiftly swept up by the wind, mysteriously disappearing into the mud of the forest. Each individual molecule of the specific tissues of your organs consistently regenerates itself ranging from a few days to several months, depending on the organ in question.

Consider the famous paradox of the ship — if you replace one piece of an original ship, is that ship still the same ship? If you replace 2–8 planks, is it still the same ship? …

Speeding up our footsteps to catch up with the mirage of ourselves, anxiously jogging, swift sprint, not quiet getting any closer to the illusion, yet leaving our shadow farther behind.

Shadow wonders what’s the rush, yet doesn’t dare to ask.

When a tree loses all its leaves,

It waits for spring.

When the petals of a flower are asleep,

They await sunrise.

If the sea wishes to reach the shore,

It waits for the wind to carry it.

If the stars wish to show their dance,

They wait for darkness.

When the ground suffers thirst,

It waits for clouds to give.

When your life’s load’s much to bear,


For every pain, there’s an elixir.

In someone else’s waiting, longing, wishing…

Be spring,

Be sunrise,

Be wind,

Be light or darkness,

Wherever you go, gift solutions and answers.


So many fairy-tale-esque towns and villages to visit, not to miss: Sarajevo and Mostar!

Where To Stay &Why:


Old Town Accommodations Home — Dzemal and his ultra hospitable mother make you feel so warm and welcome, like you’re visiting relatives from out of town. They will offer you Bosnian coffee and advice on where to visit. I had a spacious private room with a key, and a gorgeous lookout from the outside terrace. Note: ask about the heating in the winter, as I visited this cozy home in August.


In your absence, romanticizing you to perfection, Remembering no wrong or fault, You’re flawless in my memory. And when I return, I feel my soul activated, My senses jump start, kissed awake after a century’s curse, I become human.

I’m grateful not out of mere obligation, No this feeling, ever present like the snowflakes on the Alp mountains, I finally taste one, a child of the sand deserts sees a fountain, spilling intangible purity.

I learn not, yet become myself in your presence. Your wisdom needs not preaching, I hear it in each footstep, Tea cups refilled with fresh essentials…

There are two types of poems birthed to light,
A crafted sort, built like a home.
Refined structure, foundation, detail,
Blueprints to marvel at.

Consultants of the highest caliber reviewed the plans,
And they went to town, all pieces changed.
Balconies facing East, will now face West,
The glass ceiling with a rooftop terrace,
Each tile and ornament chosen like a science,
With neurosurgeon's precision, dancer’s balance.

The other poem arrives without warning,
Flutters effortlessly much like a feather in the wind,
It lands into your hand, and then another,
Until a precious bird takes form,
Which direction did it come from?
Will there…

I wish to be a wing of a plane,

Just one will do,

Such power and strength as it glides in the unpredictable skies,

Despite turbulence through clouds, it goes on.

Fused of many metal bits, screws holding it all together,

It’s solid, sure, safe, and magnificent,

Carrying tired passengers as they close their windows to snooze,

Its design impeccable, revolutionary, yet humble,

It’s a silent warrior, resisting against the outside pressure, peacefully,

Pushing with full force, yet doing so effortlessly,

Above the diverse shades of green,

As per the Pilot’s wishes.


Songwriter, Music Teacher, Photographer and Aspiring Poet. Seeking wisdom and knowledge under every rug, Rumi's fan. Anastasia Filippova. Music on Spotify!

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