“Hang in there”, they said.But he wasn’t hanging at all, his fingers were building a home for himself.He was climbing. If he seemed to them to be hanging, how can we tell them that it’s because he liked to live on the edge?He liked to be right where he was, in mid air.He depended onContinue reading “Hang in There”
Category Archives: Commitment
An Insomniac’s Morning Hours
When the call to prayer soundsand the sun’s about to rise,my thoughts restlessly dissectthis sorrow, that guilt, old lies. “I can’t keep up”, I say,“slow down and stop the mumbling!”But they answer with obtuse eloquence,lingering, rolling, and tumbling. How lucky I find those people,who are right now asleep.Their heartbeats slow and steady,their dreaming calm andContinue reading “An Insomniac’s Morning Hours”
so ist es.
so it is. I met him accidentally. A chance was presented to me. Like a single thread that wove in and out of itself, he turned into a net that both tripped me and caught me from falling. He carried me with a single thread spun into a web. And with the loose end ofContinue reading “so ist es.”
Quote
Not all grand destinations are located at the top, reached through a steep uphill walk. Sometimes it’s the downhill trail which is the most scenic – a gentle calculated stride that allows you to choose your pace rather than succumb to it. Some of us long for the vastness of valleys rather than the majestyContinue reading “Quote”
Fire Island Scribbles -2-
A cloudy humid day for smudgy Maybelline mascara. For Haruki Murakami’s maze of people and indirect insults. For imagining a world without women. For allowing oneself to imagine a world without women. For really not being so self-centred. For letting oneself not think about oneself. For broken Havaianas and lazy drags of flip-flopped feet alongContinue reading “Fire Island Scribbles -2-“
Repressing
He had so many questions and they were shadowed by answers that were futile to both of us. He asked if I liked my new place, he asked what I had planned for tonight, he asked how my grandma was doing – things he knew the responses to. He also asked about the weather evenContinue reading “Repressing”
To Pour Out
… and then to just pour out of the cracked cup. Not from the rim like most people do – no – rather you’d be slowly tick tocking, drip dropping, out of the cup from the ruggedness of the crack. You won’t be so watery like most people are; you’d be thick like the consistentContinue reading “To Pour Out”
But First, Coffee
My eyes felt heavy, but I didn’t let them rest after the too-much they had stayed open for, and the much-more they were waiting for to happen. I blinked very fast, too. In case you turned to look my way and find me mid-blink, then you might have thought my eyes are resting so myContinue reading “But First, Coffee”
And Just Like That
And just like that, my love for him swelled, it overflowed over the rim of its cup and poured all over the table like a large boundless map of a suddenly borderless unknown world, which I newly marked here, and there, and here, and at the far end of it down there where Australia usedContinue reading “And Just Like That”
Beisan's Burble 