Read up; part 43. 


All the failed paradises I discovered were founded on the misguided belief of arrival.

 
-N

Advertisements
Posted in Bits & pieces, Expressions&Art, Literary Apothecary | Leave a comment

Read up; part 42. 


“The founders of the Roman Empire were suckled by a she-wolf. All heroes capable of earth-shattering deeds were adopted and nursed by animals.”

-N 

Posted in Bits & pieces, Expressions&Art, Literary Apothecary | Leave a comment

Read up; part 41. 


Personal size and mental sorrow have certainly no necessary proportions. A large bulky figure has as good as a right to be in deep affliction as the most graceful set of limbs in the world. But, fair or not fair, there are unbecoming conjunctions, which reason will patronise in vain — which taste cannot tolerate — which ridicule will seize. 

-N 

Posted in Bits & pieces, Expressions&Art, Literary Apothecary | Leave a comment

Read up; part 40. 


“Death may possibly not be the hardest thing in the life of a painter. I must declare that I know nothing about them, but when I look at the stars I always start dreaming, as readily as when the black points that indicate towns and villages on a map always start me dreaming. Why, I wonder, should the shining points of heavens be less accessible to us than the black dots on a map of France? Just as we take a train in order to travel to Taracson or Rouen, we use death in order to reach a star. In one respect this thought is undoubtedly true: we can no more travel to a star while we are alive than we can take a train once we are dead. At all events, it does not strike me as impossible that cholera, kidney stones, cancer and consumption should be means of celestial transport just as steamers and railways are earthly ones. To die peacefully of old age would be equivalent of going on foot.”

 
-N

Posted in Bits & pieces, Expressions&Art, Literary Apothecary | Leave a comment

11 pm secrets.

Strut about under that fragile radar of yours, just to occupy the hollow that would haunt in the next couple of years, probably always, as I bet about for the puddles you splashed right onto an indignant soul.

Posted in Hints & Secrets, I'mAwake, Unclassified | Leave a comment

Withered, thus bloomed.

My 20 years of living are bound to be concluded as sketch papers. Traces and marks of scratching on obscure words that may or may not bring about a mirage of letters swaying around in this hopeless breeze. Insecurities lighted up by twinkling bulbs of emptiness, hence allowing such coincidences to fall apart. Reaching from deep within allows a slight difference of acceptance, provided that the need to accept has the patronage of resistance. I made it happen as it was expected to be. Drops of confusion and redness filling up the senses of my mind. Gaps of comprehension closed without further notice of reopening as it should always be.

The act of concealing was left incogitant. I never intended such actions to proceed without a tug from the back. Yet, melancholy never felt so pleasant as it did before. Forehead pressed to the ground, I hoped for a locked door to emulate enlightenment. Bargained a soul for its freedom and only resulted to a faded whisper from a deserted crowd. I wished for the enjoyment, the fortune of luck that was within reach. I was dragged back to where I first stood, consoled on the expectations that cease to exist. Initial stages destroyed by crumpling up the remaining mess written on the first page.

Smoothing it back to its original state was no use. There was still an obvious sign screaming out in oblivion. Arranging each episode into the corners of a hidden sight didn’t provide contentment. Rolls of film were developed, making the impossible even more transparent. I was still around. Tiptoed with elegance but bruised by the touch of gravity. I paraded through, revealed just as I wanted to, blinded by the emotions encircling my steps. Somehow, I didn’t fall through. Turning a page was equivalent to curtains drawn back. A speck of light was enough to fit in the moment of it all.

I didn’t hover around, I went straight to the opening arms of a deadly figure. A figure mesmerised by many but as dead as leaves blown on the roadside. Shuddered thoughts were once more paralysed, and it felt just as nice as it was before. It felt comfortable. Comfortable enough to let out a hint of displeasure and wrecked any possibility of it being true. Again, I didn’t mind. I just step on it once more, with an ending gait that I would happily erase once and for all.

 

-N

Posted in Exposures, I'mAwake, Wake Up Calls. | Leave a comment

Read up; part 39. 


‘When you’re young,’ he said, ‘everything looks easy. Everything seems to be in black and white. So-and-so has a burden on his back: take it off. So-and-so wants land: give it to him. So-and-so has too much, and uses it ill: take it away. But when you get a bit older you find out that things aren’t as simple as that. These things can’t always be done.’ 

-N

Posted in Bits & pieces, Expressions&Art, Literary Apothecary | Leave a comment