Sunday, December 18, 2011

For Moments

Life is short-like the winter morning at your window with its white layers and a bewildered orange sun.

The green paint you dabbed on the wall, yellow stick ons of work which flutter like busy sparrows, a cheap map to remind about places to go...

There is never enough time to stare into nothingness. Desert journeys which get drenched in songs of rain and end with a silly string of camels lined up in a bead. A small pub in a quaint town with people and ideas which will float and stay like butterflies in your head....

Moments are like stray need to bind them in some haphazard have the honour of listening to the most exquisite tunes.

Time can also pass by you all dead and still and moth balled. The shrill monotone by which you earn your bread, the dead wall of arguments which lure you to bang your head against them, the choicest morning curses showered on the auto wallah.

So need to keep stealing moments and hours and days and float, to read, to make, to write, TO MOVE...

There is nothing in the world like the surprise of a new land with all its odd ballness looking you in the eye for the first time.

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