And if life was a flute: living then would be like air, hitting every blocked orifice till it finds a vent; and with every hit, losing an index from the exponent.
Trudging along for a long long time (in a very surreal definition of time itself,) I find that many of the frames that I imagine, fail to hit the canopy of the creative viands. Mostly so because “thoughts” by itself iareso sublime a mentation (or intellection) that mere images fail reciprocate the so-called “perifery” of the process. And that is why we are so ardent about the presence of a sixth sense.
Result? Well… few more lines! Yes. I have decided to key in a bit more of sentiments, with ofcourse the framed rudiments. And to begin it, I have resurrected my abstract’s name. (I prefer calling it a abstract, than a blog.)
Do reflect what it conveys to you (the name.) For a beginning of thing that has already begun, I will associate “short” thoughts to each frame I present. I will not go into mainstream (read: long-stream) blogging. Short, sweet and skin-friendly! 😉
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Like the rudderless wind that envys the peaceful and pre-traced life of a stream and ignores its own infinite limitlessness, this unspoken man curses his job and trudges along – though having sold more joys than just Multi-National ice-creams.
The feeling of returning (wherever who cares,) coaxes the world to fall into sludgy haze; intoxicating you more than what any inebriant can get you to. The world slowly collapses into a blurred phantasm of imagination. Dream.
In the dreamy eyes: the world seems frozen. To the world: a dreamer lies frozen.
PS: Thanks to Romit’da for accompanying me to capture the above frame.
p align=”center”>© Shamasis Bhattacharya (Twentyone Innovations)