Traveling Raconteur

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Walking with Pencils

They always enter at the wrong time. As I walk down the road or when at the filling station or in the middle of the night when I wake up for a minute or two and fall asleep again or atleast try to. As I watch someone walk their dog or while I pick tomatoes for home or as I comb my hair but not so much when I hold a pen between my fingers and put it down on the paper to write something.

I am often clueless of ideas when I wish to write but some of them, these unsettling thoughts and bizarre words pile up in my world, enter my mind and exit it in a jiffy. Sometimes so quickly that I fail to read what goes in and out of my mind. Sometimes its just pictures, a collage or single, black, white, grey or in blissful colours. Sometimes words suspended in air flow in and flow out. They make my mind heavy when they enter and light when they are gone. I love the heavy, I like having something in there, wish to look at them, read or comprehend what they say.

If maybe I always walked with a pencil all the time and if it was appropriate to scribble anything, anywhere, what a strange assortment of bits and pieces of words, pictures, sentences, stories I might scribble on walls that I walk along – the office staircase, my bedroom wall, the roadside wall or the mirrors in washrooms.

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This entry was posted on April 21, 2010 by in Fleeting Thoughts and tagged .

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Fighting An Additction

Not One MoreSeptember 12th, 2014
Addiction is a curse one allows upon one's self until it ceases to seek permission. I do not like the idea of a mind controlled by substance. If I can refrain for 30 days, I'd be very impressed with myself.

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