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Elham MBeygi’s Illustrated World

 

Each stroke is a whisper.

Each image—a quiet fragment of a larger tale.

 

Here you are invited into a collection shaped by wonder, solitude, and a gaze turned inward. From whimsical animal portraits to surreal, symbolic dreamscapes, each piece reflects a story untold, a question suspended in silence.

 

This portfolio is not merely a gallery.

It is a conversation—between what is seen and what is sensed.

Between the world outside and the one that quietly blooms within.

Symbolic Landscapes - Echoes from Elsewhere

These are not places you can visit.

They are not meant to be found on a map.

They come from a different kind of geography—

where emotions shape the hills,

and memory draws the sky.

 

Each piece is a fragment of something felt,

not explained.

An invitation to wander,

not to arrive.

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TheConversionOfTwoAcorns 
A woman holds a lantern high in daylight, guiding a distant boat — not to light the sea, but to warm the heart of the one abo
A single leaf, trembling with longing, reaches out for the tree that no longer answers — the final glance before the fall.

The leaf’s final plea for the cold tree 

and a tear that slipped away without permission.

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Roots Without Wings

The Last Drop Of Cup Of Tea
Illustration of a lonely coffee cup in a quiet café corner, with the last drop forming a wistful figure inside.
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The Silent sentinel

Digital portrait of a woman with teal skin and expressive eyes, staring to the side with a bitter smile. The painting conveys silence, sorrow, and strength

She sat in silence,

but the lake of her eyes revealed the storm

inside—

a storm that had long found no way to speak.

 

A world had been born from her,

but not like this—

not with violence,

not with lies,

not with assault.

 

And she endured.

Endured everything that came.

 

She was a woman.

A mother.

An earth.

 

A bitter smile rested on her lips,

perhaps she was a god,

or maybe—

just a woman

who had held up the weight of the world.

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Shelter in the Cup

Her posture stood tall — like a well-kept secret,

yet something broken curled quietly inside.

A silent dream

drifted upward with the unseen mist of tea.

No tear, no smile — just a long pause.

A silence that seemed to hide a voice.

And there, within the depth of the cup,

a mad soul

had taken shelter.

A visual meditation on silence, containment, and the fragile space where dreams rise — unseen, but deeply felt.
Locked door

Even locked hearts miss the knock of love.

 

A quiet door.

A brass handle that still remembers warmth.

And perhaps — a key that’s still out there.

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