N.A.

Imagine that you're a 70-year old man or woman. You live in a house just outside town. It feels rather lonely, because, although your child and its family live in the house, they have work, and school, and math lessons, and jobs to take care of. They're only home after 7 pm. And you're looking forward to that. You have a small dog in the house that's your only companion from 7 am to 7 pm. Every week day. Every month. Except for Christmas. Now imagine that you have cancer. And that you're undergoing chemotherapy. You don't know how long you've got left. Sometimes you wish it wasn't that much, because the chemotherapy is a two-sided sword - both saving and killing you. Or just prolonging the torture. Depending how tightly you grasp to life, and how much you want to live. As I said, your only companion is a small dog and you can't wait til your family gets home. Well, you do get along with your neighbors and aren't usually as lonely as this, but today you've been feeling more exhausted than usually. You've been feeling weak. You've got the flu, and in normal circumstances, that wouldn't change much, but you've got cancer. You've been lying all day on the couch, with the dog lying next to your feet. Or your head. Touching you with its nose. Now it's finally 7 pm and someone is knocking on the door; your family is finally home. You love them so much but you don't have the energy to stand up and open the door. You don't have the energy to be happy that they're finally home. You generally don't have any energy. Someone unlocks the door slowly. They see you lying there and perhaps they wonder whether your heart is still beating. Just imagine. I don't have to imagine all this, because that's my grandma, and too many times when she's sleeping I've caught myself eyeing her strenuously, examining whether her chest is moving up and down, just to make sure she's still breathing. And somehow every next time when I do it, it seems to me that her chest is moving ever so slightly less.

We've worked

We’ve worked
too many hours
and
our sinks have eroded
from rust
and
our souls have eroded
from cynicism,
because we’re tired
of cleaning again
and again and again
and it always needs more cleaning;
and we’re tired of being
hurt
over and over
and over
and there’s always someone to hurt us.

indifferent

People are indifferent.
to things,
and to people
And all they wish for
Is somebody who won’t be indifferent
to love them
to hold them
to tell them it’s gonna be fine.
And they’re scared of all the things 
that they have done
becаuse thаt’s how
they don’t wаnt to be treated
аnd how they don’t wаnt to be loved
and how they don’t want to be hurt
People are indifferent.
to things,
and to people
аnd people аnd things.
and all they wish for
is to be left alone
so that nobody cаn hurt them
with their indifference.

Ignorance

Ignorance is sanity
and my mind is a prison.
And if they're keen enough
to search all of it
they'll find no sanity
no arrogance,
no thoughts of a murderer and hypocrite,
they'll just find the truth about
their own Evil.

Door

Now this is the final touch.
This is where
the door shuts.
Because it doesn't matter
whether it's open
or closed
or locked.
since nobody would care
to try its handle.

England

So i went to england to visit my sister and it was a particularly unique experience.
I had some time to explore Oxford, the Brookes university, and meet some interesting people.
And a very particularly interesting person too.
I had to leave some of my stuff there though, as i came back only with a hand luggage.
It feels weird now that i have something of my own there, it's like an unfinished business.
The thing is that it'll probably never be finished, just as how some people storm in our lives, and leave a trail, even if they're gone in a breath. A very, very short one.
I guess it's like leaving a part of you somewhere, never to be taken back.
It feels weird, but it feels good.
Leaving parts of you somewhere is better than trying to put them together all the time - it's tiring.