sunehriullo:

Thand ho e gai….

sunehriullo:

Thand ho e gai….

bitchyurducards:

usmein tou logon ko bulanay kay liye paise bhi nahi dene parengay

bitchyurducards:

usmein tou logon ko bulanay kay liye paise bhi nahi dene parengay

HOMELESSFONTS

(Source: vimeo.com)

I tried to imagine a happier Pakistan.

birbalstudios:

So, I got tired of listening to all this one-sided, biased portrayal of Pakistan everywhere. Just an attempt to show Pakistan is a lot more than just terrorism, minority killings, homeland, guns, riots and chat masala.

It’s rainbows, and butterflies, and happy clouds and floral patterns.

Just saying.

—-

Like us on Facebook, please.

birbalstudios:

Rustam aur Sohrab

birbalstudios:

Rustam aur Sohrab

birbalstudios:

New Pakistani Currency Redesign.

Concept project by Shan ul Haq.

via The Desi Design.

The Perfect Samosa.

fromkarachiwithlove:

image

Just some older photographs of Benazir Bhutto from Sindh Museum in Hyderabad. 

birbalstudios:

Work in progress: trying to imagine a happier pakistan, yes, with flowers and rainbows and butterflies.

birbalstudios:

Work in progress: trying to imagine a happier pakistan, yes, with flowers and rainbows and butterflies.

"Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red."

— Kait Rokowski  (via splitterherzen)

(Source: writingsforwinter, via jusaunia)

birbalstudios:

Poster Design

birbalstudios:

Poster Design

Tags: graphic design

birbalstudios:

Poster Design

"

sometimes it hurts a lot, and sometimes it hurts a little. sometimes you’re sitting in the middle of a library and you got enough sleep last night and all that really matters is the work you haven’t gotten done that’s due in an hour, and this feels pretty normal. like you made it, somehow. sometimes you’re riding a train home and something clicks inside of you and you’re set off like wildfires, you become alight with memories you’re too choked up to swallow. sometimes nothing happens inside of your brain because it’s filled with thoughts that are deadly gas leaks. those are not the good nights.

it’s scary because we’re all these little harmless bubbles, i guess. like we are full of stories and rhymes and there’s no reason to us. and sometimes one of us just kind of pops, and they’re gone for good. like you start having to say “yeah, i knew him,” instead of “yeah, i know him.” it’s scary. we’re so vulnerable.

and there’s no real way to know if someone’s alright like if they’re having one of those moments where stuff just feels human and good or if they’re having one of those bad days where the sky tastes like whiskey and they just want to drown themselves in anything willing to swallow them up. like you can look someone in the eyes and say “i’m doing fine” and really mean that if you had a shotgun and a bullet, you’d go through with it. like you can literally lie to someone about wanting to die - and someone can do the same to you.

i wonder about that a lot, you know? like how many people i haven’t noticed are ready to click themselves out of the picture. like how many people i didn’t help because i totally bought it when they sold the idea they were whole and doing well. i wonder if they go home and think nobody really cares enough to look deeply. i care about you, i just trust too easily and i want to believe that you’re not dying. i guess that’s just some coping mechanism, you know? humans can’t believe the ones we love want to go. we can’t live with the idea that they’ll slip under if we leave them alone, so we paint them with good swimming skills and not a drop of sorrow in their bones.

or maybe i’m just self-centered and awful. i don’t know.

"

— 10.13.2014 // r.i.d (via inkskinned)

Walking around U Street.