Art of a Silent Artist

There was once a ghost people believed was a killer. But no one actually knew the full truth. Everyone had a different version of the story. Some said he haunted lonely roads. Some said he lived inside mirrors. Some even believed he only appeared when someone was hiding something serious. Over time, the stories changed, but one name stayed the same — The Silent One . People called him that because whenever someone tried to describe him properly, their memory of him felt incomplete. Like they were forgetting parts of what they saw. One rainy evening, a boy moved into an old abandoned mansion outside the city. The house was very cheap, which was the main reason he chose it. His friends warned him not to go there. They told him people never stayed in that house for long. The boy didn’t take it seriously. He said he didn’t believe in ghosts. When he entered the house, everything looked old and empty. But after a few seconds, a voice came from the darkness. “Good. I don’t believe ...

It’s been a short break since my last post. I already mentioned earlier that I was taking a short break, and I did step away for a while. Now I’m back. Sometimes you don’t really need a big reason—you just pause, reset, and return when it feels right. In this gap, something small but meaningful happened—this blog crossed 1,000 views . It may not sound like much, but for me it feels like proof that even quiet writing reaches someone somewhere. I also changed the name of the blog from “Ibadur Blog” to “Art of a Silent Artist.” The old name didn’t really match what I was writing here anymore. It felt disconnected. This new name feels closer to what this space is becoming—thoughts that are quiet, a bit philosophical, sometimes emotional, and sometimes like love expressed in silence rather than loud words. During this break, I also wrote a story.  The Story’s Part 1 will be the next post. Be keen to see the title and read the story. I won’t explain too much about it now. Some t...

There are moments in life when even the most consistent voices become quiet for a while. Not because the passion disappears, but because reality gently pulls us toward responsibilities that cannot be ignored. Sometimes the mind needs distance, time needs attention, and life asks us to slow down before continuing the journey again. So for a little while, this blog will rest in silence. Not permanently. Not as a farewell. Only as a pause between chapters. Before stepping away for some time, I wanted to leave a few words behind for the people who stayed with this journey. To everyone who read my posts, viewed the blog, followed the page, shared links, or silently supported my writing without ever saying a word — thank you. Truly. Writers often publish words without knowing where they will reach. Yet somehow, these thoughts found people. Somewhere between late-night writings, overthinking, philosophy, emotions, and unfinished thoughts, this blog slowly became more than just a website to me...

I never became a writer through perfect grammar, difficult vocabulary, or deep literary knowledge. I became a writer through emotions, experiences, silence, and the thoughts I carried within myself for a long time. Writing slowly became the only place where I could express feelings that were difficult to explain to people directly. I am inspired by a famous writer of the late 16th and early 17th century because of the way he understood human emotions, conflicts, pain, and human nature. Not to compare myself with him, but to understand how powerful words can become when they are written with real emotions and meaning behind them. My writing style is simple, honest, emotional, reflective, and personal. I do not try to sound overly poetic or complicated. I believe emotions themselves can create meaningful writing when they are expressed genuinely. Most of my writings come from thoughts, observations, personal struggles, silence, overthinking, and the emotional side of life that many p...