Just scribbled a few thoughts on the last pages of a notebook I have been keeping since 2017. Somehow I never thought of going back to the earlier notes. But today, I did.
There is no pattern. No one has seen this notebook let alone writing in it. There is no thread to the notes that have been kept. It is like many different people have written about places, things, feelings, losing loved ones, travelling, philosophy, God, not-God, and so on.
Many different faces, and words, of mine.
The ache never ends.
People plan for decades.
And then, the light goes out without a warning.
These were also the years that I travelled quite a bit. Cultural education through the years. But I captured those in pictures, not words.
The very thing that brought us together -
should it break us apart?
Tonight, when she kissed me, she hesitated -
Did love come between us?
And then there is the usual mention of Autumn. I neared mine. 41.
Crisp, red, sharp, voiceful, seasoned, charming, musical, gentle.
Some mechanical aspects of life have been recorded. The waking up, the sleeping, the eating and the rest of it. Leading to what?
In all this, a flickering hope - that a routine sets in for regular writing. Plain old pen and paper, with little light, no electronics buzzing in, and nothing else to think about. A trip up the ages... when peace was quite accessible.
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The stationery stash has been looked up. I already have my eyes on the next notebook.
Commencing soon.
There is no pattern. No one has seen this notebook let alone writing in it. There is no thread to the notes that have been kept. It is like many different people have written about places, things, feelings, losing loved ones, travelling, philosophy, God, not-God, and so on.
Many different faces, and words, of mine.
The ache never ends.
People plan for decades.
And then, the light goes out without a warning.
These were also the years that I travelled quite a bit. Cultural education through the years. But I captured those in pictures, not words.
The very thing that brought us together -
should it break us apart?
Tonight, when she kissed me, she hesitated -
Did love come between us?
And then there is the usual mention of Autumn. I neared mine. 41.
Crisp, red, sharp, voiceful, seasoned, charming, musical, gentle.
Some mechanical aspects of life have been recorded. The waking up, the sleeping, the eating and the rest of it. Leading to what?
In all this, a flickering hope - that a routine sets in for regular writing. Plain old pen and paper, with little light, no electronics buzzing in, and nothing else to think about. A trip up the ages... when peace was quite accessible.
---------
The stationery stash has been looked up. I already have my eyes on the next notebook.
Commencing soon.