It's about that time

It’s about that time the Sun went down
And city woke up to illuminating darkness
It rained that evening
And through drenched clouds,
Wind sang an eulogy for time
That sublimated, brick by brick
In the towers that rule the world now.

It’s about time when dozen of the last birds flew over a broken home
Their wings spread through contours of memories
Chanting the hymn to erase the marks of hungry past

It’s about time when the last of dusty roads
Kissed the goodbye to nameless flowers
And burned them all in aimless tar.

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Why did I not feel awe for AWIAL?

It happens that we choose we do certain things because of FOMO. That is how I ended up watching All We Imagine As Light (AWIAL). And somewhere in the first half, I realized that I should not have been movie hall to watch this move. I could have waited for it to appear on OTT or even other chance encounter. I liked the movie. I like the detailing of reality in the art form. But may be because of age, I seek an escape through the stories that I interact with, a shock to my senses, an intellectual or moral puzzle that stays with me. AWIAL contains nothing of this sort. It is a story of temporary closures, shown beautifully and marketed even more successfully. Image from internet It has its own moments of magic, a part where we must choose to believe whether a certain character is indeed what it seems to be. The movie turns there and one of the leadin...

Poems of lost winter

A shadow of loss hangs over the city, Even when it is December, The time when we should dip the year of losses in Illusion of good times. But the cold nights and warm days, Stand so apart from each others, Like strangers sharing the same room. And, one wonders where is the winter that we all know. Where are the days of kind light? Where are the days of aimless strolls? Where are the roads wide enough for our dreams? Like an incomplete conversation that promised so much and Melted in adieu, The chill in the air disperses and lurks the summer Of blinding premonitions. When we die under the unbearable sun, dear, Will you remember the poems which we left back in the last winter?

Joy

i am alone, somehow at the balance of memories and dreams, some encounters with reality practically, a room for me, a laptop, movie, food, coffee, cigarettes and loneliness to get kick out of everything.... fucking nice life! missing a mate or complete loneliness!!

Encounters with Reality

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