I told him once. We were sitting at on an old green bench. Rain was coming and I told him that he smelt like rain. When rain crashes on the surface and the mud stings your nostrils. He smelt of it. He held my hand and smiled.
I have burnt all our pictures.
It’s his birthday.
In four minutes I am going to kill myself.
I´ve been so lost I must confess
I´ve had my share of loneliness
But yeah it´s hard to keep a good man down
The loves you lost were all in vain
The past lives on inside your brain
I don´t think you need those memories
Hanging around,
Good-bye
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Better trust all and be deceived,
And weep that trust and that deceiving,
Than doubt one heart that, if believed,
Had blessed one’s life with true believing.
It is good to be without vices, but it is not good to be without temptations.
-Walter Bagehot
The moments when I talk to you,
The time that flutters by;
The thought that you are far away
Sometimes and sometimes nigh.
Writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of, but do it in private and wash your hands afterwards.
-Robert Heinlein
A wonderful hindi poem by Manish Bhatt:
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First there is a time when we believe everything, then for a little while we believe with discrimination, then we believe nothing whatever, and then we believe everything again - and, moreover, give reasons why we believe.
-Georg Christoph Lichtenberg
He has seen her cycle before his house everyday; she does not know of his existence. Lost in her own, solitary world, with an overflowing reality, there is no place for other people.
He has watched her day after day, month after month, for two years, harbouring no desire, no curiousity, nothing but a detached satisfaction in observing her, tracking her movements, deciphering every expression of her face.
And yet, despite the proximity that constant observation brings, she has not noticed him. Nor is he desperate that she should. For him, now, watching her, silently following her from a distance, these are the things that have turned from idle pastime to obsession.
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Assert your right to make a few mistakes. If people can’t accept your imperfections, that’s their fault.
-Dr. David M. Burns
it was Philly and the bartender said
what and I said, gimme a draft, Jim,
got to get the nerves straight, I’m
going to look for a job. you, he said,
a job?
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Dear Someone
Its a hot day today. It’s funny that I would begin my letter to you in this manner, but really, the heat’s all I can think of these days. How’s it there? Not too warm I hope.
I have been meaning to write this letter for so long, but didn’t really know what to write. But I’m quite enjoying it, contrary to what I had imagined. Don’t you just love writing letters? More
Let us get bored tonight,
Listening to the beatles.
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Im standing at the edge of something too deep. It seems to beckon, and all I want to do is take a leap. But there is much at stake here. The heady rushes are a thing to reckon. So are the sudden bouts and fits of tears.
He lies down on the edge of the wall that seperates life from death and looks over at the other side. I sit looking at him. At peace with himself after a long long time. I tickle the underside of his foot. And he laughs. Giggles actually. It makes me sad. I don’t know why. It should not, but still it does. Almost as if sensing it, he gets up and says, “im going to miss the sounds of the traffic”
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Will there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?
