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.

TheConversionOfTwoAcorns


The leaf’s final plea for the cold tree
and a tear that slipped away without permission.


Roots Without Wings
The Last Drop Of Cup Of Tea


The Silent sentinel

The hours are lies…I’m a seamstress, I sewed desire to desire and dream to dream until reached old age .



The hours are lies…I’m a seamstress, I sewed desire to desire and dream to dream until reached old age .










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.


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.