RANDOM
So much has changed. Even the look of the blogspot. The dot com (s) change so fast, even if nothing else does.
I have earned the reputation, in own conscience, as a perfect procrastinator. This is especially when it comes to blogging. This is the time I am reminded of an earlier post of feverishly wishing for longer days; and nights; months; years.
So it is all about change. And having to adapt and move on. A dear friend gifted me with a book. It is the story of a river. I have only read the preface. But yes the imagery was so clear. Life of a river. Realise mine had been one; as is every one else's. The river has its turns and bends; and sometimes even needs to conform. But no stagnation, except drying up for want of its life giving water. (Wonder 'conform' is the correct word. May be not).
When a lot around one changes, it is hard to keep pace. That happens to be my continuing epic. Had tried writing in a note book. I realised, the most guarded thoughts have a way of finding their place in there. So much nice and intimate to see the handwriting. The smudges... the spaces... long pauses.
A lot of faces have changed around me. Many have left. Only the moments I spent with them remain. Distance is what connects me now with feelings. Relationships; of course sustaining them. It seems hard at times. Yet... the river is flowing...
You speak out, but it is own echo that reverberates. You turn , it is own shadow that reflects...It is a vast space.
More later. For the notebook. And for the blog.
Cheers!
So much has changed. Even the look of the blogspot. The dot com (s) change so fast, even if nothing else does.
I have earned the reputation, in own conscience, as a perfect procrastinator. This is especially when it comes to blogging. This is the time I am reminded of an earlier post of feverishly wishing for longer days; and nights; months; years.
So it is all about change. And having to adapt and move on. A dear friend gifted me with a book. It is the story of a river. I have only read the preface. But yes the imagery was so clear. Life of a river. Realise mine had been one; as is every one else's. The river has its turns and bends; and sometimes even needs to conform. But no stagnation, except drying up for want of its life giving water. (Wonder 'conform' is the correct word. May be not).
When a lot around one changes, it is hard to keep pace. That happens to be my continuing epic. Had tried writing in a note book. I realised, the most guarded thoughts have a way of finding their place in there. So much nice and intimate to see the handwriting. The smudges... the spaces... long pauses.
A lot of faces have changed around me. Many have left. Only the moments I spent with them remain. Distance is what connects me now with feelings. Relationships; of course sustaining them. It seems hard at times. Yet... the river is flowing...
You speak out, but it is own echo that reverberates. You turn , it is own shadow that reflects...It is a vast space.
More later. For the notebook. And for the blog.
Cheers!
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