Although i have not written on my blog, i do write a lot, ppl actually say i spend way too much time writing crap , but i will let you judge the crapness of what is on my mind. most of the time it doesn't actually make any sense at all , but that the whole fun of it ....
What friends are for
There is something about travelling that triggers my mind. It is only through travelling that I get inspired. I must have mentioned it earlier, but to understand what I am about to write, I chose to emphasise the importance of travelling in my little life. It is through travelling that the world seems more and more mysterious, that ones curiosity expands, that ones thirst for knowledge deepens. When one travels , ones mind is left to wonder, one's body is meant to emerge out of its cocoon and become a different, may be better butterfly ........... , and one can allow thyself to say farewell to the old constant creeping caterpillar that we use to be, another vision of the world opens up, other interpretation of the past revives.
When my mind is free to wonder, my imagination is in its highest efficiency, and inspiration knocks the door of my mind. Listening to the sound of music and my mind drifts away into a better place, where the grass is much, much greener ... nothing real matters anymore and perfection reigns. Because everything that matters is like a drug to my soul, to my life. It gives me joy for little while and soon goes away, then again somehow it is addictive, I cannot live without everything that matters otherwise obviously it won't matter. If at least those who mattered could show that I mattered to their eyes to, I always wonder if it is because I am not enough.
(Home matters loads...)
I once read that home was not a country, a place or a house, neither is it a thought or a feeling. I believe, it is where thy heart and thy body, experiences happiness.
Home is where a rush of joy and ecstasy like feeling reigns .
Even through sadness, one shall not be lost, because a sweet refrain whispers hope, or a quiet melody sings : “there is nowhere else to be.”
My home is where I had my freedom, where I was able to fly, where my wings could open up and touch the sky. In so many ways and so many times I use to scrape the sky and be, but lacking choices I had to let go. Close to you I use to feel at home, and as time passed by, the gap distancing me to my home got deeper, and my heart was bruised until it fell apart. Close to my friends I felt home, they understood, they cared, and secrets remained secrets as they should be and should have always been.
