Vinka's Library of Mind

Oh, how it feels to be someone’s muse—to live in their thoughts, to move their hands in art, to be the reason beauty takes form To exist not just in their world, but in their work—their sketches, their melodies, their quiet thoughts between moments. There’s something timeless about that kind of presence, something unspoken and golden. Like Camille Monet did for Claude Monet. There’s something beautiful about inspiring art simply by being loved, and I hope one day, I can be that source of beauty and emotion for someone too. I want to be remembered in brushstrokes and feeling. To be looked at the way an artist sees their favorite subject—not for perfection, but for the way light falls across your face, for the way your silence says everything. I want to be the color that changes with the seasons in someone’s painting. To be loved so deeply, so gently, that their hands cannot help but create. What a beautiful kind of immortality that is. —vic

Oh, how beautiful Hablum minallah is—our bond with Allah, pure and unwavering.     One thing I’ve deeply learned this Ramadan: Allah is never far; He is always near. No matter how far I may drift, His love never wavers—it always belongs to His creation. I may not be the most pious person, nor a scholar of faith, but I feel His love fully, without condition. He is the only One who accepts my flaws, who understands the depths of my heart without me needing to say a word.   His love is beyond my comprehension.   I used to feel so lost, so anxious about life’s uncertainties. But the more I seek to understand Him, the more I realize that His promises are clear and true. He asks His creation to be grateful, to surrender, to trust in Him. And in return, He grants peace—deep, undeniable peace. And one of the most memorable experiences this Ramadan was my chance to itikaf. Spending the night in the mosque, surrounded by people with the same purpose—to draw closer to...

The storm has raged for many days, battering us with its relentless winds and waves. But now, let us pause—take a moment to rest and thank God for seeing us through. We’re still here, still standing strong, still holding on. The storm could not tear us apart, and for that, I am deeply grateful. I thank God for everything—for the chance to walk this ferocious road together, hand in hand. Our ship still sails, though battered, refusing to sink.     Compromise—this is what we’ve learned and continue to learn. It’s not easy, but we try, recognizing that we are only human, prone to mistakes and imperfections. We’ve seen each other’s flaws, yet we choose to stay, to keep learning and growing together.   It’s through compromise, honest communication, and keeping a cool head that we’ve found ways to rethink our own inclinations. We’ve carried scars, both old and new, but we’re committed to healing them. Healing is not a destination but a journey, and as we walk this path, we...

Here I am again, face to face with the same familiar enemy—my insecurities. They’ve been with me for so long, a shadow I’ve been trying to fight off for what feels like forever. Yet, despite their relentless whispers, I’ve kept going. So, let’s take a moment to celebrate, not for the battles I’ve lost, but for the quiet victories I’ve earned. My faith has grown, even in the face of failure. Too many times I’ve stumbled, fallen, and felt the weight of giving up pressing down on me. But here I stand, unbroken. I haven’t quit, and maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for today. Love and career—both seem dim, their paths not quite as bright as I’d hoped. Life keeps pushing me, forcing me to work hard again and again, as if testing my limits. But maybe that’s the reason I’ve grown strong enough to walk through the fiercest hurricanes. Each storm has shaped me, every gust of wind teaching me resilience. And though the skies may still be dark, I keep walking, knowing that strength isn’t just abou...

Oh, to tiny bug, the world seems so hard to live, Where winds are tempests, and raindrops unforgiving. And life, too, hands you its coldest sting— A footstep looms, and you’re brushed away. The path you build is crumbled, erased, Your fragile dreams left cruelly displaced. You’re turned from the flower, swept off the ground, A journey of seeking, where refuge’s not found. Yet on you crawl, with legs so frail, Through grassy jungles and dusty trails. You bear rejection, relentless and stark. Oh, little bug, your struggle seems grand, To carry your world in a grain of sand. -vic

Since I've noticed a lot of Murakami haters popping up on social media lately, and many people seem to be jumping on the bandwagon of hating him without even reading his books, as a fan of Murakami, here’s my take on my favorite author. Some say, “Haruki Murakami might be the type of author you either love or hate—there’s no in between,” and I happen to be someone who really loves Haruki Murakami’s work ((obviously)). Despite all the criticism and hate that portrays him as misogynist or sexist, personally, reading Murakami has opened my perspective on the complexity of the human mind and emotions. I’ve always admired how Murakami conveys complex feelings, but with simple language. I also appreciate the depth of character development in his works, even if some people find it long-winded. But I enjoy that. I really do love his writing style! I also love Murakami’s unusual, surreal imagination. I think his writing offers a lot of insights into various issues. Plus, I’ve discovered man...