writing down what I’ve had in mind for days. trying hard to make the text as perfect as possible. doesn’t work. no success, at least for me. giving up writing and then erasing all has been written. not able to figure out what causes incapability of completing the text. nothing comes to mind that could bring together a rationale of absence of ability of ending something, putting the “dot” at the end of a word, phrase, sentence, paragraph, text, etc. whatsoever. there is a beginning, yet no end. why? why? why? question marks flying in emptiness and filling it. at least, this is what it seems. blowing wind could sweep and take away all, but not for sure. can’t be sure. as what has mostly happened to the writing process described above, the same could happen with question marks. wind might blow up and carry them to where they cannot find the way back home.  hope it can.

bricks fall dawn as they’re put together. the wall never gets high enough to hide behind. no wall means no place to hide. to be open to whatever comes  is apparently horrible. cause cannot be sure what would hit next and how powerful it would be. sound like everything depends on chance. playing dice! probabilities are too many. not possible to estimate. just waiting and seeing would be the only “thing” to do now as always.

well, things remaining the same. nothing changes. all is out there as it was before. the only thing changes is the way of interpreting. claiming the way of interpreting changes as well sounds logic, but hard even impossible to control it. everything is spontaneous. nothing can be predicted or decided earlier than the event takes place. no power, no control, no chance to manipulate or adjust things. contrary ideas can pop up, yet won’t change even shake the fact. limitations have already been made about how spontaneous lives should begin and go on till the end. not confusing as it may seem. just tricky perspective. like a fish in a sea. not able to escape from it. kept as a prisoner there. still able to swim around.

but how far and how long can a fish swim there whilst being aware of what boundaries/walls have been built around to keep it away from the “other” world? would the fish really like to know what’s out there? why shall bother about this? why does it not just swim around? etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.

nothing has been removed from the text this time. everything is as pure as possible. a new and enticing way of writing




Posted in Writing

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