Fluid

"Drained" is the word for it — emotionally, mentally. "Exhausted" too, but nothing quite describes what's happening inside me like "drained". As in "(noun) deprived of strength or vitality".

ببینید کی بعد از ۷ فاکین سال برگشته اینستا و این‌بار پابلیک و متفاوت؟🤪 خوشحال میشم فالو کنید همسایه‌ها :))❤️ https://www.instagram.com/flohajishah?igsh=YjhoZnJnNmF5MnNn

ببینید کی بعد از ۷ فاکین سال برگشته اینستا و این‌بار پابلیک و متفاوت؟🤪 خوشحال میشم فالو کنید همسایه‌ها :))❤️ https://www.instagram.com/flohajishah?igsh=YjhoZnJnNmF5MnNn

🍓🍰❤️‍🩹 https://youtu.be/bzWB75wklOE?si=h9jAltBQaSv3S5W8

If I am to be called superstitious, it's because I believe in things like this Freudian nightmare: the body remembers. The body remembers. The cells hold memories. They hold pleasure and pain. They hold kisses, and they hold trauma. They have annual reminders. They hold anniversaries, whether you want them to or not. They awaken your entire nervous system in response to something that happened around the same time of year last year, or the year before, or even twenty years ago. An emotional, mental, neural, hormonal, sensory march that embraces your whole being, carries you away, and drifts you from reality. @ImFluid

Tattle Tale – Glass Vase Cello Case

Breathe into my hands I'll cup them like a glass to drink from Are you still, still breathin'? Are you still Breathin'? @ImFluid

Daughter – Youth

Listening to this song at 20 was a totally different experience; I used to think it's so beautiful, now at 27 it's not just heart-wrenchingly beautiful, I feel every single word in my bones. I think I've just realized what it actually means. @ImFluid

"The One" I hope I stained you like wine. Not the way you might think— but like wine on a black cloth: unremovable, undeniable, as much as you deny it; yet when you stand under the sun, the edges come alive, flaunting themselves, showing you you're condemned. And I hope I am the sun shining ruthlessly above you, and the sharp smell of rose oil in your nostrils. I hope I am the headache of truth, Pontius Pilate. And I hope I burn like acid. I hope I burn and corrode and corrupt and demolish like pure acid. I hope I cause pain and torment the way I was made to suffer— hell, even half of what I suffered. And I hope I'm no saint. I hope I'm Lilith herself, haunting you in your sweetest dreams and torching your tongue and your lips and your body—every single cell of yours that I touched and kissed and loved. And I hope I'll be as strong inside you as I am outside you. I hope I'll rise from the depths of your murky river of denial and remind you of everything you're running away from. I hope loving you more than anyone is ever going to love you was enough to keep me so alive in your shadowy life that you'll actually change—that the dead in you will be revived. I hope I'm the one— to you, but for me. - Flo Jun 2026

هر هفته همین روز، حول و حوش همون ساعت، همون مسیر لعنتی، ختم به همون حوالی، دلهره و غم بی‌انتهایی که به جون من میفته و فکر می‌کنم که دقیقا چقدر دیگه باید بگذره تا من بتونم تن و قلب و ذهنم که هیچ، زمانم رو، روزم رو، و ساعتم رو کاملا پس بگیرم. انگار مستاجر بدی ساکن وجودم باشه که ادعای مالکیت داره و من دیگه نمی‌دونم چطوری بیرونش کنم.

سلام سلام.🤍 همسایه‌ها، من نیاز دارم با افرادی که در یک یا چندتا از زمینه‌های زیر دانش و تجربه‌ی حرفه‌ای دارند صحبت کنم و یه سری سوالاتی که دارم رو ازشون بپرسم: - Brand Strategy / Brand Planning - Creative Strategy - Communication Strategy - Marketing Strategy - Business Strategy - Design Strategy - UX Strategy - UX Research - Service Design - Product Strategy - Product Management - Innovation Strategy - Consumer Insights - Market Research - Strategic Planning در آژانس‌های تبلیغاتی - Account Planning - تجربه مدیریت تیم‌های استراتژی در آژانس‌ها - مشاوره مدیریت (Management Consulting) - تجربه جذب و استخدام کارآموز یا جونیور در حوزه استراتژی اگر در این حوزه‌ها فعالیت می‌کنید و امکان گفت‌وگو دارید، خیلی خیلی ازتون ممنون می‌شم به من پیام بدید. اگر هم خودتون نیستید اما کسی رو می‌شناسید که بتونه بهم کمک کنه بازم ممنون می‌شم معرفی کنید. آی‌دی من: @IamFluid

"Scenes from a Marriage" /2 @ImFluid

"Scenes from a Marriage" /1 @ImFluid

سلام. تقریبا یک ماه پیش اینجا هشت ساله شد. اندازه‌ی یک عمر. بیشتر از عمر کوچک و غم‌انگیز و معصومانه‌ی خیلی‌ها. آدمای زیادی اینجان، آدمای خیلی بیشتری بوده‌ن، اومده‌ن و رفته‌ن. توی این بازه‌ی زمانی در این جغرافیا لااقل سه بار اعتراض و انقلاب ملی رخ داده و دو بار جنگ شده. بیشتر از چیزی که برای پنج نسل از آدم‌ها بخواد کافی باشه. امیدوارم همتون و هرکسی که اینجا اومده و رفته سالم و سلامت باشه. احساس می‌کنم اولین ساکن یک خیابونم که فقط می‌تونه امیدوار باشه تمام همسایه‌هایی که داره و تابه‌حال داشته امن و امان باشن. همسایه‌ی ساکن خونه‌ی پلاک یکِ شما می‌دونه که دیگه همه‌مون نمی‌تونیم بگیم زنده‌ایم به امید، زنده‌ایم به فردا، اما فکر می‌کنم هنوز به امشب زنده باشیم، یا به غروب، یا حتی به عصر، و این بهتر از چشم بستن روی همه‌چیز یا برعکس اون، زندگی نباتیه. حرف برای گفتن خیلی هست، این فقط بهانه‌ای بود برای بازگشت. مراقبت کنید همسایه‌ها.🤍

مراقب خودتون و دیگران باشید. اولویتتون زنده و سالم موندن باشه. یک روز همه‌ی این‌ها تموم میشه، امیدوارم اون روز خیلی خیلی خیلی بهمون نزدیک باشه.❤️✨

- «آرزوی تو چیه؟»

- «آرزوی تو چیه؟»

"July" Last time was March — the last time it felt like that. Then Spring opened up for me — luscious, weeping, mourning, and I was stuck in her womb. Inside, was an ivy — green as poison, bright like leather, grabbing me, holding me, cradling. I thought I was safe. I fell asleep. When the ivy choked me to death, I woke up to the sounds of explosions. Twelve nights in a row, I woke up, the ivy burning to ashes, yet choking me harder. Twelve nights in a row, I woke up, and I wasn't dead yet. Summer was there, spitting me out, just to swallow me again. July sat on my chest. July stared into my soul as I cried for help. July emptied my womb, sucked the life out of it, and as I screamed, July told me the story of how I was born exactly 26 years ago. Then they told me I'm a woman. Under his gaze — the Sun's gaze — they gave me a piece of paper with my name on it and told me to burn it. They said it's cancer, it's simply July, was tied to you when you were born, exactly 26 years ago. And I found myself in the dump. Autumn held my hand, and took me to a field, where they chopped up my twin, and buried her pieces in the ground. I observed as she nourished the soil. I was there when they came with their picnic baskets, and feasted under every single tree. Autumn hid me inside one of the trees, and told me that Winter is coming. Now all I have is a matchbox, and the pleading whispers of my twin, begging me to set the tree on fire, for the Winter to come. Next March, I'll be ashes in a field, thinking to myself: I fought my fight. Cancer will never simply be cancer again, and July will rue the day, when I was born, exactly 27 years ago. - Flo Dec 2025