There’s a wrapper, where the chocolate was.

There’s a railroad somewhere beyond the skyline of this city. And tunnels. There are tunnels within the tunnels. Smoky and hazy and blurred. Like the corner of her ladyship’s mouth. The trains, do they explore the wonderland of your magic-acres?

What is love but a whiff of death in the land of lotus-eating voyeurs! People change streets only to find hidden streets, changes cancel out to make room for prodigal morality. Metal towers, grim and dark and foreboding. They cast the coldest stares to the hint of light beneath their presence. Does the sound of distant thunders resemble your whispering in my ears?

Much has been said and done. Over and over again. Each fragment of our incomplete thoughts, they belong to the charade of half-remembered faces and names. Just when the hue of the evening sky touches the tip of our collective iceberg, we notice, with a start, that summer leaves have just turned to the colour of your hair……

There’s a feather, where the pebble was.

Somehow I have saved one or two of my ribbons. Don't you laugh at it, it has taken years for me to do it. And here at last......

Lately, I've been going through a period of suffocating emptiness. That kind of explains my regular absence in the big bad world of blogging. Fortunately, only a small set of people suffer to go through this insignificant blog. And anyway, this is not intended to make a difference to anything they do, or intend to do, or pretend to do.Smiles decay, so do frowns. The hint of a distant past remains, though. Inside the freezing indifference lies the deserts of vast eternity. Its blazing chariot almost breathes down your back; you could feel the sparks of contempt flying out. Yet, there lingers a maddening urge to taste the raindrops, blue and grey and cold.

'Marvell'-ous, won't you say?