There is a bright crimson card that now adorns my white marble centre table. Ma, ensured it reached me just in time for my birthday. It animates an otherwise lifeless, yet aesthetic living room. I have placed it partly open, so the writing on, and inside the card are readable
I am an impractical Man! Insolent, Often Incorrigible. Mostly easy. Meticulous, yet erratic. I have lived too long, yet have not lived at all. Tormented, yet, happy. The woods behind my apartment brace the wind as they embrace the sullen grey monsoon sky. I stand on guard, stupefied. I wish,
I often wonder if I am a lot different from how people exist. People chase goals, relational, academic, and more. Their goal posts shift often as there are comparisons and a sense of competitiveness. What drives their chase is immaterial. They chase something material. I chase this feeling of pristinity.
I like watching the rain. I hate the rain itself, but I like watching it as it pours. If it were to not touch anything and just landed on the ground, I would love it. One could say it is the gusty winds that accompany a storm that influence how
I sit weary and tired from directing AI to get various stuff that needs gotten done at work, obsessively cleaning and compulsively checking if my space is pristine and odour free. At times, it still feels like I simply cannot maintain it the way I need it to be. Why