I need to read diverse and travel more.

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after the piano rondevu

Night falls, the glow of the evening lamp; sitting on the couch, it's the perfect time to write poetry, create music. _________________________________ Too close, too many, so close that you can be touched, so close that they touch you, and you shrink, you shrink, shiver, contract, and then, all of a sudden, you vanish like a note of music you become a part of those vibrations You become music. ____________________________________ There are times when several things, ideas, thoughts come rushing to you, all of a sudden, at the same time, you remember all your dreams, together, and you want to hold on to them, each one of them, tightly, so that none, not even one of them can slip away, freeing themselves from the clutches, and fly out from the corners of the fluttering mind. ___________________________________ Sometimes I miss certain things, inane, trivial things: I miss living on the top floor of a very high building, with the rest of the existence beneath me, watching the sky as
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after a call and a letter

Sometimes just talking to an old friend whom you don't get to speak to or meet very often brings tears to your eyes. Talking to them you realise how far and few such people are who you consider close to yourself, you realise how much you have missed a carefree conversation laden with memories, you realise how much you have missed the lilt in your voice, you realise how much you have missed being with a 'friend' who's not measuring every word you utter and judging you for your traits, your opinions, your idiosyncrasies. Certain aspects of you come alive only in the company of certain people, certain bonds, certain relationships. I realise most of my close friends share a common characteristic - they cannot tell you in person what you mean to them, they write to you just after you've left or hung up to acknowledge that.
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too quiet, too serene, why aren't all moments like this:)

It's night but the sky is blue, a midnight blue and all I can see are stars, silver specks glittering in serene vastness. _______________________ I still speak to my old friends, at length, quite often, sometimes rather too frequently. We usually end up discussing the current state of affairs in our lives, which often translates to sharing our serious and sometimes silly problems, dilemmas and choices facing us. Sometimes we talk of the wonder years, of the city that was once home to us but where nothing is left now but for memories. Amidst the changes, we stick to our memories , never wanting to go home without writing a song, on paper or air. As we moved on, our new experiences and our new visions have left us so much to talk about regarding our present selves, so divorced are we now our lives that we have to at times keep introducing things, ourselves. It seems that surviving in the competition of the world, they have not enough time to read or write, watch a play, attend a reci
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