Wednesday, June 29, 2011

na nothing

the quietude of the night echoes through the cobbled streets..  streets running through my head. Where newer lanes are fast emerging and dissolving, appearing, vanishing, building and continuing. absolutes are not absolutes. solitude stands transfixed as a state of mind. yet sometimes i don't have the pleasure of pain. happiness, the consciousness of an unnamed pleasure eludes and teases. the dawn rises with the sun or the sun with the dawn? What is to be looked forward to and what skipped? Are trepidations worth facing or bearing as a constant reality, an unrelenting hiatus along which we sway. questions are sometimes hard to answer but harder to frame.

5 comments:

  1. ...lol. I was reading something: - a song, actually. The Pauper's Drive. Part of it went, "Rattle his bones over the stones/He is a pauper whom nobody owns." And, as is always happening with me, it reminded me of something else. In this case: "quietude ... echoes through the cobbled street." So i return to check ... and, by chance, found you have corrected IT.

    P.S. I didn't correct you myself - earlier; give me credit for that. ;)

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  2. I know it's tough for some to overlook linguistic assault, however naive or honest. I'd rather give you credit for all my future 'slips'..which you will kindly continue to miss. :P

    Coming from someone else, let me admit, I suddenly quite like the expression 'quietude echoing through a cobbled street'. So, good that you pointed it out. :)

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  3. ...you have placed me wrong. I am not the Viennese Witch Doctor.

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