Nausher Nash Banaji Photography

“It’s possible, I’m moving through the hard veins of heavy mountains, like an arc, alone; I’m so deep inside, I see no end in sight, and no distance: everything is getting near and everything near is turning to stone.”

Rainer Maria Rilke

'Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.But you are eternity and you are the mirror.'
Alena with Nash.

"I hadn't understood how days could be both long and short at the same time: long to live through, maybe, but so drawn out that they ended up flowing into one another. They lost their names. Only 'yesterday' and 'tomorrow' still had any meaning for me."

Albert Camus

"if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them."

Jodi Picoult

“The night is my nudity
the stars are my teeth
I throw myself among the dead
dressed in white sunlight..."
~ George Bataille from The Impossible

sleeping in each other's dreams
you can hear your footsteps walking away
your shadow is swimming against the stream
you hear your heartbeat begging you to stay
you catch your eyes looking back at you
you see a stranger you lost along the way - Nausher Nash Banaji

"I need silence, and to be alone and to go out, and to save one hour
to consider what has happened to my world, what death has done to my
world."

- Virginia Woolf

there is a waft of Chanel in the air
the room is bare and you aren’t there
I see a flash of fabric, a shimmer of skin
i feel the burn somewhere within
I hold the doors to the night ajar
I feel the cold of the northern star
I bottle the memory of your scent inside
To remind me what’s true, what’s lies
In the end it is all just a speck in my eye
I just want to take a moment to say goodbye
I know I made a mistake coming here again
I remind myself of what, where and when
In a dream and a prophecy, barely a trace of that place in me
I look in the mirror and all I see, the ebb and flow of memory – NausherNash

We set a mark on the foreheads of men that sigh
Fill their hands with coals of fire
And scatter their ashes over the city
The burden of beasts plow into the land of trouble
And they pollute it with rumor
Rumor upon rumor
Every man entombed alive in the chambers of his imagery
Each day his scripture is fulfilled in his eyes
But no prophet is accepted in his own country
On earth he straddles heaven and hell
He walks on water with an eye on the hill
Building his memories on shifting sand
He looks back to see an arid land
Waiting for the train he lies awake in bed
Dreaming of the dreams to bring back the dead
– Nausher Nash Banaji