August 18, 2010

There are things in the world that one holds precious, for me it is the peace you get when you are still, when time passes by slowly and it seems everything can wait. Here, there are memories that flood your mind and maybe out of all that you’d single out one thought, or some scene which you’d play over and over again – a barely audible whisper in some conversation, a gesture, a look in somebody’s eye, a goodbye. 

Yet sometimes you could empty your mind and it is so easy not to have a single thought in the world.

Recently I feel as though drugs were coursing through my veins, and I float about like I am living a dream. But unlike real dreams where I would wake up not remembering anything, events and conversations are vivid and real.  

But he-who-walks-in-his-sleep often wakes up with a taste in his mouth that disappears too quickly, like ice-cream that melts.  I am a somnambulist who must believe in my dreams, for those thoughts, however impermanent, are what I hold most precious.


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