Traveling Raconteur

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To This Paper I am Writing On

You are joy, pure pleasure and such a beauty. You, dear handmade Auroville paper, are so, so beautiful! You make me happy when my hand with ink between my fingers glides over you, creating words and lines on you that you will keep for years.

You are the beholder of my thoughts and emotions as I feel them – of my love, my joy, my fear, my excitement, my depression and my doubt. You, my dear paper give a sweet sensation on my hands. Smelling you is pure pleasure and so is the sense of your freshness, your spirit and your beauty. It is the most beautiful gift that I am capable of writing and I am delighted to be doing that with you!

It makes me smile to think of the place where you’ve come from all the way to my desk and under my hands. You bring me lovely visions of Auroville and warm nostalgia of the time I spent there. You bring me sights of trees and the birds, of my gay abandon and sweet life. I can’t tell you how greedy I feel right now! I want to write vigorously on each delicate sheet of paper so I can bring some more home.

I love to know that you are made of cotton, fallen leaves and flowers from the forests of South India that are as old as the world and that no tree was fell to make you!

One may say you are made of dead things but do know my lovely paper that you bring to life the very dead things that you are made of. Know that I feel every leaf, every flower and every seed of you breathe as I write this.

And on you breathe my words, these words I write and fill you with. Please hold them in your heart for as long as you can…

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This entry was posted on December 20, 2010 by in Love-Letters and tagged , .

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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