#writing concept

I wonder

how people hold so many unsent letters deep inside them,

and how many of them

the moon comforted at nights.

How often do you catch yourself digging up the past.

Thinking about how, at some stage of your life, 

someone can hold such an importance to you, 

being so close to them. 

You share such an intimacy, 

sharing your thoughts, 

ambitions and fears, feelings. 

Your life. 

And since it is just a matter of time, 

things fade away, 

everything is different 

and won’t be the same anymore. 

You just get stuck in that time. 

You hold on it, 

just for the sake of what it was, 

lying to yourself.

You just swim in that ocean of memories, 

in what is now, 

some toxic water. 

Paris, october 2020 | @miraakle_

It has been a while, since I wrote down anything. But this mind has still been that blank piece of sheet, and these thoughts flowing like the ink of the same broken pen. 

I have been thinking, about how time is beyond our control, how it escapes us ; and how the moments we live are precious, until it just become memories you can only think about, while rummaging through the past. Thinking, about these times, these people, these faces. Some feelings, some words, some sounds. It all appear so clear to me, like these moments happened just few days back, but yet, it feels like a dream you had, you just try to collect all the detailed pieces to make the puzzle complete. I have been thinking about how these times, that never come twice, shouldn’t be taken for granted. We need to value people’s company more, value the smallest and simplest moments and things surrounding us here.

Again, there, I will be caught in some nostalgia and reverie, just remembering all that.

I remember, few days back, that smell of food hitting my sense, reminding me a specific restaurant we use to go with my mom back home. I then remembered, those other places we use to go with my friends, those moments. Then I felt missing all this, and again, remembered, that other feeling of emptiness that hunts me when I am in Paris. I have been thinking, since time is given to us, about it. How, back there, I will feel a hole again, the feeling of not belonging, of not being at the right place.

Thinking of what actually “Home” means. I heard sometimes, someone can provide you that feeling, just some place. Is it where you were born and live, where you have your routine. Is it where your loved ones are. I feel, home is here for me. It is familiar. Not being a total stranger to that land and these souls. My heart probably recognized it as Home even before having spent much time here. It is just where I feel whole, and complete. Home is just that.

What is happening to that world

and its people,

it just feels like

the pandora’s box got opened,

and all the world’s ills are spread out.

it feels like people got contaminated by fear and hatred.

what is the cure,

where is the light?

Montserrat, Spain. Jan 2020 | @miraakle_