P.S.

Serenity. With Lisa Gerrard on the speakers croning the Gladiator soundtrack.

I see I've become dictated by noms. Things are worth anything only if their name is recognizable, only if its title is catchy and it has an intelligent ring to it.

How mournful I always seem. That has been a recurring theme on this blog hasn't it? Something that talks of old memories, lost days, lost loves, things that make me feel a sort of voidlike feeling that I express in my stunted vocabulary. Memories are great to blog about. It starts off with the fact that one would have to compress days, months and years of feeling and thought into little boxes of memory back in your head that you can't even swim in for a long time. Memories are punished, relegated and put away.
One must 'move on'. Into the same everyday; into the same people - for most part, into the same places - for most part, into the same you - always.
Into the same mourning, the same black veils that don't change their texture or film-like transluscence. Into the same bright, open sky, with the same 'buildings in the distance', the same people you sit next to on a lone bench and look at with a lost gaze in your eyes - speaking of another day dead and gone.
Does a day die when it's over? One can't stop time even if they stand in much the same way, with the same person and hope with all their might that the moment will not pass them by. That a cell-phone will not ring. Afraid that a teasing voice will call. That the sky will suddenly swallow up the sun. And the day will be over. And what will remain is something that you can tamper with, if you dare to, if you need to.

I think I blog (or used to) because I wanted it to remain somewhere else besides my head. I wanted to surrender the power that I had to alter my memories and at the same time evened out the high of reliving the moment by transferring it, converting it into a bunch of words and pushing it down on virtual paper.

I guess I also blog because Bhavin kept persuading me to. Thought it was only fair.
After Tia Maria.