01:50 HRS
MOOD: SURREAL..
Smile and tears rolled into in a heartbeat as purple army did a Cinderella..!
Let this magical moment be framed in destiny’s hall of fame.
City rises again!
P
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Posted on Monday 28 May.
miracles only happen if you believe in miracles
Posted on Monday 28 May.
Posted on Sunday 27 May.
Posted on Sunday 27 May with 2 notes.
The blue river is gray at morning
and evening. There is twilight
at dawn and dusk. I lie in the dark
wondering if this quiet in me now
is a beginning or an end.
and evening. There is twilight
at dawn and dusk. I lie in the dark
wondering if this quiet in me now
is a beginning or an end.
- Jack Gilbert
Posted on Sunday 27 May with 1 note.
where does a thought go when it’s forgotten?
Posted on Sunday 27 May with 5 notes.
The soul is silent. If it speaks at all it speaks in dreams.
- Louise Glück
Posted on Saturday 26 May with 2 notes.
time will reveal everything. It is a babbler and speaks even when not asked
Posted on Saturday 26 May with 1 note.
Caught by our own thoughts,
we worry about everything.
But once we get drunk on that Love
Whatever will be, will be.
we worry about everything.
But once we get drunk on that Love
Whatever will be, will be.
- Rumi
Posted on Saturday 26 May with 8 notes.
Posted on Saturday 26 May.
There is no city that does not dream
from its foundations. The lost lake
crumbling in the hands of the brickmakers,
the floor of the ravine where light lies broken
with the memory of rivers. All the winters
stored in that geologic
garden. Dinosaurs sleep in the subway
at Bloor and Shaw, a bed of bones
under the rumbling track. The storm
that lit the city with the voltage
of spring, when we were eighteen
on the clean earth. The ferry ride in the rain,
wind wet with wedding music and everything that
sings in the carbon of stone and bone
like a page of love, wind-lost from a hand, unread.
from its foundations. The lost lake
crumbling in the hands of the brickmakers,
the floor of the ravine where light lies broken
with the memory of rivers. All the winters
stored in that geologic
garden. Dinosaurs sleep in the subway
at Bloor and Shaw, a bed of bones
under the rumbling track. The storm
that lit the city with the voltage
of spring, when we were eighteen
on the clean earth. The ferry ride in the rain,
wind wet with wedding music and everything that
sings in the carbon of stone and bone
like a page of love, wind-lost from a hand, unread.
- Anne Michaels
Posted on Saturday 26 May with 1 note.
haven’t been there. haven’t done that.
Posted on Saturday 26 May with 1 note.
15:35 HRS
MOOD: ELUSIVE
The lullaby of happy interlude is over, the city will not sleep tonight. The ambitious uncertainty of tomorrow is sprouting above the colossal ruins of lost hopes. The city owns a legacy of despondency. The legend of dead dreams, yours and mine.
But we have come a long way since then…! And this moment is an enigma in itself, ambiguous, bursting with possiblities. Here every aspiration is time travelling in nostalgia, bittersweet, a strange twilight of future and past ~ transient and beautiful, like a watercolor visage… rendering new color to this very moment. This color can not be defined. And this moment will not last.
The incredulous mind. And some wishful thinking.
P
PS. but serendipity happens.
Posted on Saturday 26 May with 2 notes.
Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.
- Hermann Hesse
Posted on Saturday 26 May with 13 notes.
Posted on Saturday 26 May with 2 notes.
At the twilight, a moon appeared in the sky;
Then it landed on earth to look at me.
Like a hawk stealing a bird at the time of prey;
That moon stole me and rushed back into the sky.
I looked at myself, I did not see me anymore;
For in that moon, my body turned as fine as soul.
The nine spheres disappeared in that moon;
The ship of my existence drowned in that sea.
Then it landed on earth to look at me.
Like a hawk stealing a bird at the time of prey;
That moon stole me and rushed back into the sky.
I looked at myself, I did not see me anymore;
For in that moon, my body turned as fine as soul.
The nine spheres disappeared in that moon;
The ship of my existence drowned in that sea.
- Rumi
