Archive | January 2013

The price of age

Old does not mean it’s forgotten. Old does not mean it’s rusty and useless. Old does not mean to be thrown away and abandoned, to be kept inside a shelf full of growing dust and rotting smell. Old does not mean it’s over. Nothing is ever over, it’s just the start of a recollection, a memory, a momentum. Keep it safe but never forget it.

The language only we understand

We speak of love engraved in our hearts the entire time. We speak of love the way we understand the language and no matter how foolish the world thinks it is, we speak of love in a way only we understand. Everything else is just a blur of cinematic record drenched in black and white.

The CD that spins

When the music stops, the feelings stay. They linger and dance in a series of tremendous echo like an old CD that spins on your player. Stop and replay.

Strangers of this planet

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We see people everyday everywhere, anywhere at anytime. Some are interesting, some are not; some are funny, some are serious. And yet the reality is: we walk pass each other, pretending not to see, not to care – walk, don’t stop, one two three, continue your footsteps and don’t throw a smile. Pretend to see nothing, close your eyes and walk. We are all strangers of this planet.

Motion blur

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The world spins faster than you think. Time slips from the tip of your finger with the speed of light. You either run or get left behind. You either make a decision or you wait for others. So the question is: which one are you?

The words you were born with

The world is a giant hole of different personalities and honey, you were born with words whispered into your ears telling you what is right or wrong, what to do and what not to do. As you grow older, here I am, hoping with my fingers crossed for you to find the true definition of a real life.

You don’t look, you run.
You don’t nod, you speak.
You don’t follow, you lead.
You don’t stray, you walk.
You don’t give up, you try.

Take your chances and live it up to the last coordinate. Good luck.

The silhouette of one

I see light at the end of this tunnel.
I see a series of blurs and dancing visions before my eyes.
I see black just the way I see ivory in my head.
I see a lot of things everyday of every second. I never stopped seeing, I am an observer and that’s my job.
The city is busy, there are people everywhere – too crowded, too crowded. But I am an observer and I see you, your silhouette, you.

Nothing else seems to matter anymore because we have seen each other.