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Somewhere between the folds of old books and faraway winds, I kept encountering this word — Diwan.
The word Diwan (دِيوان) has traveled far — across centuries, deserts, and languages.
It has roots in Arabic, Persian, Ottoman Turkish, and beyond.
Originally, it described a space within a palace, where leaders and poets gathered to share counsel, art, and reflections — A quiet chamber where stories are not just told — they are lived.
But more than just a room, a Diwan became something sacred:
It was where poetry lived, Where truths were spoken, Where people reclined on cushions, sipped tea, and let the rhythm of words stitch meaning into their hearts.
In classical Persian and Arabic literature, a Diwan is also a collection of poems — verses gathered like pressed flowers, curated carefully from the poet’s soul.
These Diwans were passed hand to hand like treasures, stories cradled in ink, memory, and love.
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This pages are my humble version of a Diwan, an online corner where i gather experiences, notes and dreams, a place to share what i've learn and discover on my Botanical path and on my peaceful walks, immerse of sun rays, sand and orange mint scent.
