Monday, December 31, 2012

Three Years Later

It all started on a moonlit balcony. Enter an amateur who is undoubtedly oblivious to the misguided camouflage of the pink bathrobe and the not so subtle sound of smooth jazz. And then I started writing, and sentences turned into paragraphs, and months turned into years. Three, to be exact.

Three: the time it takes for a full moon to turn blue, the same shade of blue that is blending, perpendicularly, with the lines of these anaemic pages. Three: the (lowest) number of words it takes to put together an uncomplicated phrase, one that is capable of evoking a myriad of emotions at any time of day and under almost any circumstance.

Best year ever. Caterpillars become butterflies. Close your eyes. Then open them. Come find me. Dreamers are lonely. Fall then fly. Fears are imaginary. Free your mind. Happiness is temporary. Hope is not. I miss you. Insanity is relative. Just say yes. Life is beautiful. You are too. Make a difference. Memories are fragile. Mortality is overrated. So is money. Open the cage. Paint the clouds. Use a pencil. Paper beats rock. People make mistakes. They also change. Deal with it. Photograph a smile. Read a book. Serendipity is random. Just like science. Smell the magic. Soul mates exist. Stop and listen. Suffocate the doubts. Take my hand. Travel the world. Try something new.

Happy New Year. Live a little.

No comments:

Post a Comment