i've been trying to figure out (recently) what goes in here. after all, where does the line between private thoughts and experiences split itself from those that can be shared with everyone? (for a lack of a better word, public thoughts)

sometime back, i vaguely remember reading a term that said 'self-censorship'. well it's true. what you see, is what i want you to see. if i'm careful with words, i might even be able to construe an imaginary me. (shit, it rhymes!) i'm starting to think, is it possible to achieve a cathartic experience via writing whilst at the same time construing words to portray a different persona? prob yes, but that's darn twisted.

ok the incoherent ramblings are over now.

paper clip me.

"absence makes the heart grow fonder."

-

the truth, the truth/ but for the divide over time
/and yes you still take my breath away.

"D'you know what happens when you hurt people? Ammu said. 'When you hurt people, they begin to love you less. That's what careless words do. They make people love you a little less.' A cold moth with unusually dense dorsal tufts landed lightly on Rahel's heart. Where its icy legs touched her, she got goose bumps. Six goose bumps on her careless heart.'"
-the god of small things, arundhati roy

nice.

the stars and moon belong to one night sky.

a passing thought; how much solace do we each find in words?

- - -

"When we use the 'we' pronoun we place two people behind a joint action almost as if they form a composite being. Many languages have a special pronoun to use about two - and only two - people. This pronoun is called dual, or something that is shared by two. I think it's a useful concept, because there are times when subjects are neither single nor many. You are 'we two', and a 'we too' as if 'we' cannot be split. When this pronoun suddenly makes its appearance, fairytale rules come into play, as if with a wave of a wand..."
-the orange girl, gaardner.

dreams of red.

sometimes in life, we often fail to grapple the thoughts of others. it becomes almost a sort of preoccupation in the attempt to figure out what that other person is thinking. then again, perhaps it's this inabilitiy that adds the intrigue into life.
(after all, exams wouldn't be so thrilling if we could figure out the thoughts of the examiner.)

which brings to mind, that not too long ago my friend pointed out to me that in the things that matter to us most, it is often that we either put on this mask of nonchalance under the pretext of letting nature take its own course, or we become overtly sated with the thought of it.

at different junctures of our life, things just happen, and they become an inevitable part of us. some times these things reoccur, a few days, few months, a few years. hold them, please - you never know when you'll find it again.