There is a sense of beginning after finishing a novel. Story becomes something, in the presence of blank spaces in-between the time actually reading and moving around in daily life. There is always a piece of each other, stories to connect with, memories and experience to store away and the colour of the heart. Emotions… Continue reading There is a sense of beginning after finishing a novel.
The sense of aliveness after the storm. The wind is quite strong, pulling the curtain here and there in all directions and the sun is so high, already so high, 9 in the morning. My handwriting is crappy because the ink rom this pen seems to be not flowing well, though I still have about… Continue reading Arguments on love and life