A year ends. Yes, it can end. It ends. The numbers on the calendar gets reset from 12 to 1 and we begin again. It is still tomorrow, we go to sleep and the clock passes 12am and it is the 1st of January 2018. How is it so different from waking up to today… Continue reading A year is ending.
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