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Showing posts from July, 2013

Today...

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20th July, 2013

confused memoirs

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Bearing the demons of early 15 century of Florence and royalties of Dwapar yug..in a small, logical mind.... on a very very cold morning in Bangalore....in the dilemma of half asleep half awake...I sit sipping from a cup of tea (my only companion this morning)... contemplating the virtues I have imbibed from two very different tales of history..two completely contrast cultures...learning...their greatest strife is the same... More power... but to profess? More land..to keep &to forsake? More love...to alter destinies but for what?? ~dedicated to palace of illusions & da vinci' s demons...
Credits: indiannerve.com


credits: suas-series.blogspot.com

~ charm

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~ set in the grains of an old paper are the tales of times we can only imagine...times where mystics and myths were being compounded and breathed...The charm of its fragrance is poetic and poignant, reminding of the love and hardships it has experienced, how it has been cherished and then desolated...
Reliving the marks of a paper, i realized that each fold had an impact on how I perceived the words squandered on it...and thus the texture started to speak...it's touch against the tip of fingers started unveiling an entirely different story....thus explorations began...sometimes with a fresh sheet, replicating the turmoils of an old paper....sometimes with old ones...trying to understand their destiny...as they unfolded mine!











storyteller...

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It usually happens...hidden in the glamorous folds of happiness, sits the pain of unknown...quietly thriving on the hollow smiles, made-up conversations and bleak yet intentional innocence. But there is one thread that binds it all together..a thread not so feeble...a thread of grief, of fear and of joy..of beginnings and of endings. It is contradictory isn't it...but is it?



The thread of stories, weaved like delicate lace, like freshly settled dew...compelling. Some speak of stories which made them what they are, some...of what they are not because of the stories never happened....& blessed are the storytellers, the ones with unspeakable power...intense and interesting to play God...thrilling yet dangerous but very satisfactory...

it is interesting to notice how some glittery boxes of emotions can be used, it is all at the disposal of the narrator....how some strings when pulled bring the deepest, darkest hidden memories to shore and how some can make you weave the dreams be…