No cake, this time, for us. A broken fifth sounds hollow, but right; My company this sedative night - A cold bright beam, gives off no musk. Perhaps the climate is to blame, (surely, feelings can't be lame) Or else, the stars. You know - they fall in heaps these days And no one ever… Continue reading Once in August
How does a young human being go about learning of its inner self? In this era of the new "great depression," seeking answers too often resembles standing in front of a shattered mirror with a pile of fractured and broken pieces and no reflection. Whilst outside booms the 21 century. Seeing no reflection, one just… Continue reading The Age of Emotional Innocence
Slowly a day, a person, a moment retreats into memory and becomes Past. Even memory possesses a rear inner compartment which falls into time, hastily and smoothly, beckoned by the latter's impatient ticking...
Years ago, growing up and doing a lot of reading, I would quickly get bored with long monologues . Not having the heart to skip them, I would just skim over them, which I found to be a more conscience-friendly way of helping them out that other ear. Today, I'm very picky about what I… Continue reading Cupping Time
Nothing ever dies And no one is more alive, Than your severe and ironic rhymes. In blind man's darkness I seek my tunnel reddened by distant lights; I don't see the righteous Neither do I look behind. What can I do but advance, Given no light, though gifted a guide. A guide who took me… Continue reading In memoriam J.B.
"Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." - One of Tolstoy's best-known quotes, for the reason of our universal nodding to it. Surely we know Anna Karenina which birthed it, (or probably vice-versa), we know War and Peace, we may likewise know his novels and stories - but there… Continue reading P.S. on Leo Tolstoy’s Marriage Diaries
"Santa exists, but he definitely doesn't bring presents!" - I was all of a sudden struck by the philosophical repercussions from this remark of an 11 year-old student of mine. What a way to rephrase the eternal grown-up complaint of existence! And then, suddenly, in a typically adult postscriptum of self-doubt: "He exists, doesn't he?"… Continue reading Of Santa, Kids, and Astrophysics