" height="40" playcount="2"/>
Saturday, March 31, 2012
I think...I might have begun to like someone now. This strange undefinable emotion carries me all the way back through the maze of my memory to that little sanctuary I have locked away five years ago, of subtle pleasures I have long forbidden myself, or rather forgotten, to indulge in. Now it all returns to me, unchanged in intensity but with a new dimension, new layers of meaning, and a completely unfamiliar level of sophistication that veils the true nature of the feeling itself. It is in this labyrinth of endless turns and corners that I find myself rapidly losing sight of the path I thought I knew. I am not in love, nor having a crush, but just having feelings.
Feelings, simple as that.
***~~~Waited for the Winds at 10:10pm*~~~
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Today, I went with three strangers and came home with three friends.
The first is an amiable soul which, despite moments of irrational ramblings and irksome noises made purely for the sake of irritation, is characterized by a gentle kindness that seeps in through the crinkling of its eyes, the upward turn of its lips, and the brief inward curl of its body as it catches itself in a moment of good humour. It lumbers and saunters and ambles with its arms strewn out in a manner of uncaring leisure, admittedly not the best in appearance - nor the worst - but perhaps just a little too normal.
And yet its fleeting steps, so strangely light in a period of time only too short, leaves markings deep in the path that winds long and perpetual into the darkness of my consciousness.
The second carries itself in a shell of subtle fragility, whence it would more than occasionally sprout a sudden snide remark of sorts, a clueless inquiry, or a fanciful comment that incites further interaction. There are moments where its dullness veils the truth of its character. Its impulses are random and untamed, its sources of inspiration so varied and scattered, the manner of creation it employs is not akin to drawing air out of the wind. It sees and walks, touches and expands, listens and speaks. Sometimes, many times, it catches a lullaby and sings.
And as it passes like a breeze, the remnants of its transient passing tumble around in the long, cool rustling of the leaves.
The last is perhaps the most intriguing of all, an enigma shrouded so firmly in a cloud of isolation and silent confidence that one is at first misinformed, and at last misled, by the sophisticated nature of its being. Words are employed so sparingly that attention is more often directed to the more illustrative features of its expression than the tone of its voice; an effective thing, perhaps, as it often foreruns the congregation so far and fast that it becomes easier to read the figure of its gestures. There is one direct channel that connects its ears to its heart, and its heart to its mouth, a simple connection where it listens to what it hears, and speaks what it voices. It is the epitome of perception, the very nature of perception itself.
And as it darts past like the stray bullet of a misfired gun, a trail of hot air penetrates, but leaves behind no hole.
***~~~*Waited for the Winds at 12.33am*~~~
Thanks to all the blogs the designer referred to (countless) for html code help :) (esp. cyn' and sixseven)
Adobe Photoshop Elements for supernatural abilities
