Monday, May 9, 2016


I have changed. Change is good but when you come face to face with who you used to be and sense the raw nature that exudes from the old you, you conclude to yourself a sad truth. You have grown up. You have become polished. You have become a man. Well dressed, well spoken, politically correct. Corrected. Refined. Painfully correct.

What happened to that young soul that watched the dancing leaves on a tree in the moonlight and felt a wave of soul cover him? What happened to that young soul that made up adjectives and nouns and descriptions that never existed until that very moment when that deep emotion was released in a form of a never-heard-of word. A young soul brave enough to be honest. Bold enough to write and bleed his deepest raw self into a blog that opened itself to anyone on the Internet, that became a free content on the anonymous Web?

You grew up. You became – this.

I don't hate my present self. Never. I am too proud to admit that – even if I did.

Change is beautiful. But at the same time to change what was beautiful to become dull and mediocre and toned down, is a tragedy. Stay young. Stay foolish. Stay raw. Stay honest. 

Writing and Reading

Writing and reading is about rhythm, like music is. The opening lines perhaps set the tempo, the bpm. And what follows is the ebb and flow of a vocabulary that goes well deeper than words and languages.