#Suret

[kalbiminsozleri]

[belkidebirharfimben]

Müslümanın ilk psikoloğu imanıdır

'Travma' konusunda uzman değilim. Fakat şöyle bir zannım var: Travmalar hayatın celalî yüzünü kaldırmakta zorlandığımızda ortaya çıkarlar. Celalî, yani kuşatılamayan, hikmetlerinin etrafı zihnen olsun sarılamayan, tasarrufunun dalgaboyu kestirilemeyen. Allah göstermesin, bir trafik kazasında yakınlarını kaybedenimiz, aslında celalî bir tecelli görmüştür. Depremde yaşadığımız esasında celalî bir tecellidir. Veyahut savaşlar en özünde celalî tecellilerdir. Biz bu celalî tecellileri 'kaldırmakta' zorlandığımızda travma ediniriz. Celalin kendisi travma teklif etmez. Celali doğru karşılayamamak travma etkisi yaratır. Tam bu eşikte travmaya da şöyle bir anlam verebiliriz belki: Travma celalî hadiselere cemalî anlamları verememekten çıkar. Evet. Travmalar ekseriyetle aklımızda, hafızamızda, kalbimizde vs. 'kapatamadığımız dosyalar'dır. Çünkü dosyalar ancak üzerlerindeki işlem tamamlandıktan sonra kapatılıp kaldırılabilir. Bitmeyen işlerse dönmeye devam eder.

Mesleğe sevkiyatçılıktan başladığım için bilirim. Sevkiyatçıyı en çok yoran sipariş 'gelince konulacak bir ürünün beklendiği' sipariştir. O ürün gelmediği için sipariş de bir türlü masadan kaldırılamaz. Fakat bir yandan da diğer işlerin aksamaması gerekir. Bu defa yarım kalmış sipariş diğerlerinin hazırlanmasına engel olur. Yer kaplar. Hatalara sebep olması riski yaşanır. O zaman dönüp pazarlamacılara sağlam bir serzenişte bulunursunuz: "Yahu madem bekleyecekti de bunu neden hemen hazırlattınız? Beklediği gelince hazırlasaydık. İşimizi zorlaştırıyor."

Travmalar da içimizde bekleyen siparişler gibidir işte arkadaşım. Ancak bunların gelince tamam olacağı ürün de belli olmadığından dosyaları asla kapatılamaz. Masada dururlar sürekli. Bir zaman sonra da sahiplerini zehirlemeye başlarlar. Kalan herşey kokuşur. Su bile durunca pislenir. Akışı yaraladıklarından ötürü işlemden geçen diğer bütün öğeler de aynı yaralarla berelenirler. Hatalanırlar. Yanlışlanırlar. Karışırlar. Zehirlenirler. Travma sahibi insanların duygu durumları giderek bozulur. Eşyayı algılama şekilleri sağlıklı insandan giderek farklılaşır. Dolayısıyla verdikleri tepkiler/anlamlar da farklılaşır. Çatlak giderek büyür. Bütün arıza halayın ilk adımının yanlışlığıyla ilgilidir halbuki. O ilk hataya dönülüp yarası merhemlenmezse sıkıntı biteviye sürer gider.

Diyebiliriz ki: Modern psikoloji neredeyse bunun üzerine kuruludur. Terapiler geçmişteki düğümleri açmaya yararlar. En azından buna çalışırlar. Çocukluğunuza kadar inmenizi teklif eden terapistiniz aslında 'yanlış adımı' bulmaya çalışır. Eğer takıldığınız yeri daha farklı, daha güzel, daha cemalî manalarla kavramanızı sağlayabilirse, siz de bu mana sayesinde derdinizle barışır, dosyanızı kapatırsınız. (Demek dosyaları cemal kapatır.) Gelmesini beklediğiniz gelmiştir artık. 'Güzel görmek' ile birçok yaranın iyileşmesi sağlanabilir. 'Bütün psikiyatrik rahatsızlıklar böyledir' demem elbette. Ancak terapilerle tedavisi başarılabilenler bu nevidendir.

Yani, celalî olandaki cemalî yakalayabilmek, celal ile cemal arasındaki kardeşliği kavrayabilmek, hayatın yükünü üzerimizden alır. İmtihanımızın büyük ölçüde başarısı bu geçişkenliği sağlayabilmeye bağlıdır. Eğer celalden cemale geçişi, aralarındaki yolları koşmayı refleks haline getirecek derecede, kendimizde yerleştirebilirsek, o zaman 'Subhanallah, Elhamdülillah, Allahu Ekber…' arası mesafeler de kısalır. Başı tenzih, ahiri azamet olan herşeyin ortasında bir 'hamd' bize tebessümle gözkırpmaya başlar.

İşte bu sebeple mürşidimin Mesnevî-i Nuriye'de zikrettiği şu cümleleri çok önemserim:

"İ'lem eyyühe'l-aziz! İsm-i Celâl, alelekser nevilerde, külliyatta tecellî eder. İsm-i Cemâl ise, mevcudatın cüz'iyatına tecellî eder. Bu itibarla, nevilerdeki cûd-u mutlak, celâlin tecellîsidir. Cüz'iyatın nakışları, eşhasın güzellikleri cemâlin tecellîyatındandır. Ve keza, celâl, vahidiyetin tecellîsinden, cemâl dahi ehadiyetin tecellîsinden zahir olur. Bazan da cemâl, celâlden tecellî eder. Evet, cemâlin gözünde celâl ne kadar cemîldir; celâlin gözünde dahi cemâl o kadar celîldir."

Yani belki de 'celal' ve 'cemal' aynı şeyin iki ismidir. İki başka resmidir. Bizim durduğumuz, gördüğümüz, anladığımız, talip olduğumuz vs. yere göre yüzlerinden birisini göstermektedirler. Rahmete susamışlar için gökgürültüsü nasıl şen bir şarkıdır. Fakat aynı gürültü çoğu kez korkuyla irkilmemize de neden olur. Süleyman aleyhisselamın ordusunu görmek mazlumlar için nasıl bir sevinç kaynağıdır. Fakat karıncaların, Neml sûresinde haber verildiği gibi, sakınmaları da lazımdır. Zaten en büyük daireye çıktığınızda, yani şecere-i kainatın bir bütün şeklinde Malik-i Ezelî'nin nazarına serildiği hengamda, vahidiyet-ehadiyet arasında bir fark da kalmaz. Vahidiyet aynı ehadiyet olur. Ehadiyet aynı vahidiyet olur. Çünkü küll de küllî ile aynı şeyi haber verir artık. Küll hiçbirşeyin parçası olmadığından küllîleşir. Küllî herşeyi içerdiğinde külleşir. Bütünlüğünün farkına vardığınızda ehadiyetin gölgesine sığınırsınız. Parçalığına uyandığınızda vahidiyete koşarsınız. Hangi mertebede neye uyandığınız karşınızdakinin sûretini sizin için değiştirir. Celalî olan cemalîye dönüşür. Cemalî olan da celalîye çevrilir.

Elhamdülillah. Doğma büyüme mü'minleriz. Lakin biraz da sudaki balık gibiyiz. İslam, Esmaü'l-Hüsna tedrisiyle, eksik dosyalarımızı nasıl tamamlayıp kaldırıyor farkında değiliz. Ben "Müslümanın psikoloğa-psikiyatriste ihtiyacı olmaz!" gibi iddialı cümleler kurmayacağım. İmtihandır. Olabilir. Ama şunu cesaretle diyeceğim: Müslüman, imanı sayesinde, içinde travma adayı olarak bekleyen pekçok dosyayı kendiliğinden kapatıp kaldırır. Tefekkürüyle onu bir yere bağlayarak, bir anlam vererek, bir hakikatin habercisi kılarak gemiye yükler. Sırtında taşıması gerekmez. Bekleyenler azalırsa kokuşma da daha az olur elbette. Bunu söylemekten neden çekinelim? Eşyanın mahiyeti böyledir zaten. Kalmayanlar kokuşmaz. Temizlik bu yönüyle de imandandır arkadaşım. Evet. İçindeki dosyaların birikintisini de yine imanın süpürgesiyle temizlersin. Onu sakın bırakma.

[damladanummana]

TERKİP

Bedenden ibaret değilsin ki kardeşim, Hep bedenini beslersin. Beden kafesinin içinde koskoca bir alemsin, Onu bulup beslersen, ancak tamama erersin… Mustafa Murat Güngör 20.07.2023

[mkuyguntuzel]

Kızım’a , Pragmatik Mantık - I. “Madde ve Vahdet”

1 Matematikçi felsefecilerin öz dedikleri sayı… Her şeyin özü, türemenin başı… 1 den başlar onların felsefesi ve derler ki her şey 1 den türer. Aslolan 1 dir , diğer tüm sayılar 1’in sureti veya türevi. Dinler de 1 den başlatır tüm yaratılışı… Tüm yaratılış 1’den gelir… Derler ki 2’yi böldüğünde 1’e ulaşırsın, ulaştığın özdür. Maddeyi bölünmez parçaya ulaşana kadar böldüğünde…

[forbidden-sorcery]

James Suret - Extinguished

[sumerianlanguage]

Hey! I’m no expert in languages.

Assuming you know (which is why I’m asking). What do we actually call the native (key word) Semitic language of Assyrian people today?

I’ve heard it referred to by many names. Syriac, Neo-Aramaic, Assyrian, Assyrian Aramaic, Suryoyo, Turoyo, Surayt, Suret and many others.

Its all very confusing to me. Especially since I’m looking to learn the common native tongue spoken by Assyrians today (whether it’s called Syriac or whatever).

Do you know?

Sorry if this is a waste of time btw.

Hello! This may not be the answer you're looking for, but it's... all of the above.

There are two major modern languages descended from classical Aramaic, similar to how French and Spanish are descended from Latin. (Aramaic is the language that supplanted Akkadian in Mesopotamia, similar to how Akkadian supplanted Sumerian.) In the languages themselves, they are Suret and Turoyo. Suret, also called Assyrian (not to be confused with the Akkadian-speaking Assyrian Empire), Neo-Aramaic or Chaldean, is spoken in Iraq, Syria and neighboring countries. Turoyo is also called Surayt and is spoken predominantly in Syria and Turkey. Both languages also have a growing diaspora as many speakers have fled the region since the 2003 Iraq war and Syrian civil war. In addition, there are several smaller languages and dialects in the same grouping.

How we name a language is always a complicated question, and depends who's asking. If the goal is to match how the speakers themselves refer to their language, I believe (based on my reading - please correct me!) "Suret & Turoyo" is the best option, but this won't get you far in linguistics research or when looking for resources. Most languages have any of several ways to refer to them - think of how in English, German is called "German", but in German, it's "Deutsch" (not to mention "Tysk" in Danish, "Allemand" in French, etc!) And for languages with a layered and complicated history, like those of the Near and Middle East, these names can multiply manyfold.

I'm not familiar with these languages personally, so if anyone has more knowledge of these languages or how best to search for resources on them, please reblog with them below. And best of luck with your language learning!

[gracie-bird]

Princess Grace and her youngest daughter, Princess Stephanie, attend a Christmas Party held for Monaco's National Police ("surete")on December 22, 1967.

[noodlebatter]

hucow gf now

[monografico]

‘Light up the night’ │ James Suret

[micropaiements]

Sécurité en ligne, des acquisitions en toute sécurité

Crédit photo : PabitraKaity de Pixabay Les achats en ligne sont devenus une pratique courante, offrant aux consommateurs un accès facile à une vaste gamme de produits et de services. Cependant, la sécurité en ligne est une préoccupation majeure pour de nombreux utilisateurs. Il est donc essentiel de prendre des mesures pour protéger vos informations…

[belkidebirharfimben]

Efendim, depremin üstüne iyi gider; 11. Söz'ü, elhamdülillah ki elhamdülillah, bitirdik. 171'den 193'e 23 ders anlamaya çalıştık. Anladıklarımızı arttırmaya gayret ettik. Kusurumuz çoktur. Cenab-ı Hak mağfiret etsin. Seyyiatımızı hasenata çevirsin. Âmin.

[theehorsepusssy]

Michel Suret-Canale

[fangirleaconmigo]

Geralt x Jaskier Geraskier First kiss, friends to lovers

Geraskier Dancing

When Geralt of Rivia was a child, he begged Vesemir to teach him the kind of dances they performed at court. The answer was always no, but he kept trying.

After the trials, when Vesemir seemed so affected by his eyes, Geralt would widen them and look up at his tutor, pleading.

After all, Geralt thought, what if he rescued a fair maiden, and she demanded that he accompany her to a party? Perhaps she would drag him, giggling and flushed, onto the dance floor. He would be her noble savior, and she would be his grateful maiden.

He didn’t tell Vesemir his reasoning of course. He said that it might be important for royal courts, with kings in them. Wouldn’t it be best if he could fit in? Fencing was similar to dance, so surely Vesemir could handle teaching it.

Vesemir sighed and gave him the same speech he always gave.

"Geralt. You are not training to be a knight. Put that out of your mind. You are a professional. A working man.

Further, you are a mutant now. You will not be greeted with gratitude. You will be lucky to be greeted with the cash that you are promised."

Geralt felt stubborn. Furious. But he knew when to drop the subject.

Vesemir would pat his shoulder and offer him a sweet bread. His eyes always held regret.

Geralt understood him now. After years of hard lessons, he understood. When he thought back on his youth, he felt like a dolt.

The women he saved were traumatized. He was meeting them during the most terrified, violent moments of their lives. They screamed, bled, and threw up. And they all ran. With his bloody sword and ashen skin, he looked little different from the monsters he fought.

At least to them.

And yet?

He still learned how to dance, despite having given up the dream.

It started with Jaskier of course, like most misadventures and novel undertakings. The young bard had just shown up in his life one day and sort of just...never left.

His enthusiasm, energy, and optimism infected Geralt's life, as did the handsome twinkle in his eyes.

One night, after several glasses of wine they shared their most ridiculous childhood dreams. Jaskier admitted that he wanted to publicly rub his success in his family's face, to make their rejection sting less. So Geralt admitted that he'd always stupidly wanted to woo a grateful damsel on a dance floor.

He thought they were just talking nonsense, so he was startled when suddenly, Jaskier was on his feet, woozy and holding out a hand.

"C'mon. Lesgo." Jaskier jerked his curly, disheveled head towards an empty spot on the tavern large enough maybe for one large man.

Geralt refused at first. It was silly. Besides, They were both men. Who would lead?

But Jaskier simply grabbed his hand. When they touched, Geralt found that all of his resistance dissipated like a magic spell. He found himself standing and allowing himself to be dragged. And after they moved a few tables, he found himself touching the small of Jaskier's back and swaying with him.

Why didn't it feel odd? It should have felt odd.

It probably felt fine because they were alone.

They always danced alone.

They would be in a bar that was emptying out, the last drunkards stumbling home. Jaskier would be inviting, leaning against him, words slightly slurring.

Geralt selfishly loved him like that, not because Jaskier would lose his inhibitions, but because Geralt would. Plausible deniability.

"No one is here, Geralt. You won't ruin your fearsome rep--rep--pox on it. People won't see you." Jaskier waved dismissively as he dragged him.

The bard's lips grew pinker when he drank, and his cheeks flushed when they danced.

So Geralt let himself be led into the middle of empty bars, dance halls, and sometimes even just under the stars near a campfire.

"Y'need this for" *hiccup* "d'plomacy." Jaskier tugged him this way and that.

Despite the slurring, Jaskier always moved gracefully, like a swan. He'd sing to himself, lost in the music, touching Geralt with surety, guiding him. His body would be warm and little puffs of his wine soaked breath would drift towards Geralt. The witcher would inhale and try to control the surge of something primal in him awakening from a terribly long slumber.

Jaskier always led.

"I thought you were teaching me to dance with ladies," Geralt complained playfully one night. Jaskier was leading him in a lazy circle under some street lanterns on an abandoned street. Trash and litter was everywhere, left over from the spring festival. Their feet crunched on discarded candy wrappers as they moved.

"I am," Jaskier huffed indignantly, eyes hazy. "You must charm these noble ladies. It's not easy, you know. You must practice."

Geralt bit the side of his mouth trying not to smile. He didn't want to ruin the moment. He was so close to Jaskier, the closest he ever got to stand. "But I'm not learning to lead."

"Oh, s'fine. You'll just," Jaskier gestured, twirling his hand in a circle, "turn it all round." Then it was a rolling motion. "Flip it. Change it backwards. You know what I mean. They'll love it."

It was quiet for a moment, Geralt turned his head and crept closer, so he could secretly smile to himself.

"You already complain they simper around me," he murmured near his friend's ear. "You want to make it worse?"

Jaskier snorted loudly. "They're just trying to get to me, Geralt, you know that. Price of fame!!"

Then he spun Geralt, and all the while, Geralt grumbled, purposely moving stubbornly. "I don't twirl, Jaskier."

Jaskier was wobbly and dismissive. "Y'doing great."

Geralt really did learn during those nights. But they never spoke of it in the morning. Those nights were sacred and untouchable lest they shattered in the light of day.

But one day, they finally, truly paid off.

Geralt wanted to run and tell Vesemir. He'd been right. He had needed to learn the skill after all.

Because one spring day he rescued a beautiful young woman, and she was grateful. She was lovely, truly. Her auburn hair cascaded down her back, caressing her delicate waist.

She had been menaced by a werewolf and run screaming into Geralt's arms, invitation to a ball at the ready. It was just like in his youthful dreams.

The werewolf wasn't such a bad guy to be honest. His name was Gil. And he wasn't so much menacing her as he was trying to say hello and simultaneously coughing. But it was an unpleasant sound to be sure. It was a hacking cough.

Geralt had intervened, having been sent there on an errand by Jaskier. The witcher took Gil aside to speak to him. The werewolf was moving on, anyway. He'd just come to see a picnic of beautiful women that Jaskier had told him about, thinking he would say hello.

Geralt wanted to shake Jaskier. Gently of course. To tell his friend that yes, he had needed help with dancing, but certainly did not need help with finding ladies to rescue. They were lying about everywhere there were monsters. Jaskier wasn't around though, he was nervously flitting around at fittings and lute tunings, preparing anxiously for the dance.

It was silly of course.

And to be honest, the young woman hadn't needed much rescuing. Gil's nose was still sore where she had hit him with her bag.

But nonetheless, when she'd seen Geralt she'd sighed and pretended to be quite helpless.

Geralt carried her to safety on Roach, and she had invited him to a dance that night. They were in Lettenhove, and the dance would be packed with nobles. It was the perfect setup.

Geralt got ready with trembling fingers. He laced on his best armor and slicked down his hair. His stomach was weak just to think of it.

When Geralt arrived, the maiden was there in a stunning gown. She arrived breathlessly, ready for her dance. She batted her eyes and curtseyed.

Geralt bowed slightly, and led her onto the dance floor. After a few moments, her raptured attention began to cool. She was well educated and polite, but Geralt caught her regretful glances towards the handsome young nobles in the corner.

He didn't blame her. He was not a small man, and he was stepping on her toes.

The bloom was very quickly off the rose for the young maiden.

"I'm sorry. My mistake." Geralt muttered at every wrong turn.

If you had asked Geralt as a child, whether the disappointment of a maiden would sting, he would have imagined so.

But it didn't. This was not what he had come for. This was not why his stomach had done somersaults as he had laced on his armor. It was because this party was not just packed with nobles, but very particular nobles from a very specific family.

Geralt glanced up to find him.

Jaskier stood off to the side, close by, clutching a glass of wine, and staring daggers at his cousin across the room. His cousin was a handsome man, if you went in for that kind of thing, though not as handsome as Jaskier. But he was holding court with several ladies.

Geralt excused himself with the relieved young lady who tried to look as though she were not fleeing.

Geralt came up behind Jaskier, and touched his back.

Jaskier did not jump or startle. He must have known Geralt's touch and scent by now. He simply turned and smiled.

"You're here!" Jaskier looked behind him. "And Juliet?"

Geralt shrugged. "I never actually learned to lead."

Jaskier's face fell. "I'm sorry, I-" he looked mortified, "-I don't actually know how to teach dance. I only know how to dance. I was just-"

Geralt cut him off by pulling him into his arms with an 'oof'.

Jaskier startled, leaning eagerly into the embrace. But then he remembered himself and looked around cautiously.

"I don't care if they see," Geralt whispered. "I want them to. Let the miserable bastards gossip until their throats are sore."

The widest, brightest grin he had ever seen blossomed on his handsome bard's face. "Well then." Jaskier straightened his shoulders and cleared a catch in his throat. Let me do this properly."

The bard gently detangled himself from Geralt's arms. Then he bowed at the waist and held out a hand. "Geralt of Rivia? May I have this dance?"

Geralt nodded and straightened his jacket. "You may, Viscount Julian of Lettenhove."

Jaskier held his hand with both of his, but he shook his head and whispered. "No. Viscount Julian is theirs. I am Jaskier. I am yours."

Geralt's heart melted. He did not know how to cope with that, so he just nodded.

The music fell silent, and a new song began.

The witcher and the bard were the first couple out on the floor. It may have started as a way to help Jaskier rub his success in his family's eyes. But almost instantly they forgot all about that. They lost themselves in the movement, the laughter, they only saw each other.

But Jaskier's family saw. His mother. His father. His envious cousins. They all saw that he was loved. That he was talented, famous, and loved.

Geralt didn't think a whole lot about Vesemir that night.

He simply danced. And when the last note on the last song died out, he touched Jaskier's chin. His love's eyes lit up with hope. Geralt didn't want to draw out the suspense, so he pulled him in for a kiss. It was tender and they were sweaty, their hearts beating in their chests.

It felt right. And not because they were alone. It was because they loved each other.

When Geralt visited Vesemir during the winter, he brought up his childhood dream. He would tell the old witcher that he understood now.

Love wasn't something you earned through daring acts. It wasn't something you extracted from terrified women as the price for their safety.

Love was a bard who tried his damndest to fulfill your dreams at the expense of his own.

Love was taking him in your arms and fulfilling his.

Well, Geralt tried to say all that. Perhaps it didn't come out the way he meant. Perhaps he stumbled over his words and grunted some.

But when he pulled Jaskier into the room to introduce him to Vesemir, the old witcher understood.

[persianflaw]

Hi! What do you mean when you say assyrian? Like what is your cultural heritage like? What facets of historical assyria do you currently imbibe/try to emulate? I'm a bit of a history nerd and saw your rice post, so i thought i'd try and get some first person perspectives on this for a pet project of mine. (Anoning coz my main is a hornyblog)

hi, anon! assyrians are not just a historical empire- we are a contemporary ethnic group!

the assyrians are indigenous to the mesopotamian area, and are descended from the original assyrians with whom you are likely more familiar. however, the the assyrian genocide or sayfo that began in 1915 (connected to the armenian genocide + the greek genocide) caused many people to flee to other countries, including my mom's family, so there are more assyrians in the diaspora than in the "homeland" these days.

you may also see us referred to as syriac (with a C, not syrian), which some people prefer because it is a clearer differentiation between ancient assyrians and modern assyrians/syriacs. there are a few other terms like nestorian, aramean, chaldean, but not all of those are in common use these days either and mostly have specific use cases when it comes to language or religion (ex. nestorian mostly refers to members of the assyrian church of the east, but in some older texts it's used to describe assyrians regardless of specific church affiliation). generally people just identify as assyrian.

we did descend from ancient assyrians, and modern assyrian languages (suret) did come from old aramaic, but for me that connection has a pretty negligible connection to modern life, aside from occasionally pointing at assyrian statues in museums and saying "lol look it's us" to my brother. not sure if that's the case for other assyrians, but it isn't something i've seen personally.

if you've got an interest in history, however, you may enjoy our flag!

i swear i'm not mad that i spent ten minutes writing out my own description only to find that the ACF already had this nice helpful diagram my only addition is that the gold part of the symbol in the center represents the sun and the four-pointed star represents land, with the light blue representing tranquility. also that i could have SWORN there was something representing martyrs but apparently not lol. the one assyrian cultural artefact that doesn't reference martyrs i guess.

you can also find variants of this flag with the ashur emblem either outlined in gold or colored in with gold and blue, but afaik there's not a significant symbolic difference there

this flag was designed by george bit atanus as part of a competition started by the assyrian universal alliance in 1968, and adopted some time in the early 70s. i should note that the presence of ashur and shamash on this flag are more of a tribute to ancient assyrians as part of our history as opposed to a current religious reference, as assyrians are overwhelmingly christian.

i ended up writing a lot more for this than i thought i would and now i don't know how to end this post lol. uhh take this screenshot from the "assyrian people" wiki page that always makes me laugh a little bit

like yes we have been persecuted enough for it to be a whole section on our wiki page ✨ #flex #winning

[nebez]

“O Allah ki, yaratandır, (en güzel bir biçimde) kusursuzca var edendir, şekil ve suret verendir…”

(Haşr Sûresi: 24)

[lina-vas-dom]

Художник James Suret

Мне понравились эти милые скелетики… Надеюсь и вам понравится и вызовет у вас улыбку…)

I loved these cute skeletons….. I hope you will like it too and make you smile :)