Of the becoming of a fake artist, performing a street play, always, painting a smile over that pain, touching up those patches of fate, on that mammoth canvass, perched on that wheel chair, behind the curtains, waiting for it to dry, always. Written on Monday, February 07, 2005
Like that sweet music of flute playing behind that mountain Like that village which still exists with an open door concept Like that grand procession of a beautiful princess Like that shepherd lying in the middle of the green field Like that spinner who decides to buy bangles for his wife Like that postman who […]
Deciding to put all the older entries into this one so here i go. Want to keep all in one place. When i read through them I don’t believe i wrote it now and then..but still nice to read as if opening up an old treasure trunk kept in my cellar.
I believe that one thinks much more soundly if the thoughts arise from direct contact with things, than if one looks at things with the aim of finding this or that in them. – Vincent van Gogh A few this and that are here straight from the thinking and i hope the thinking remain as […]