interlude #230

I love

that the stray dogs i befriend on the road cry when i leave them and walk on.
that i can walk up to a crowd of old men laughing in a park and join them.
that i will not hesitate to throw away a stranger's cardboard cartons or fetch a stranger's ball or point out that a stranger's headlights are turned on, merely because it doesn't cost me anything to do any of those things.
that i will write letters to people i love without their ever asking me to. and that i will write them on real paper and with real handwriting and little doodles in the margin :) and post them on my morning walk.
that i can love people with such abandon. even when abandoned.
that i miss the words when they're gone; and that i always love them when they're here.
that it takes so little to calm me down.
that i can find beauty and wonder in little things.
that i have excellent spatial skills.
that, when i can sing without thinking, my singing can bring me closer to god.
that i can talk about god and not cringe.
that a morning walk can open my mind right along with my nasal passages.

him. you. yes, you. don't pretend you don't know.
:)

terribly depressing for a bit, what?

Well, certain people can do that to you.
Especially when you want to tell them every random thing that happened to you but they refuse to be around.

sigh.
I will try turning over new leaves on the birthday.

more answers

signs that read "Old No. -". strangers on the bus who correct my kannada handwriting. spanish classes. finding tristram shandy for rs. 50 at a used bookshop i haven't visited in two years. parks. directions. the things i do on the road that make people stare. the things that make me smile. the things that make me cry. times that i lose my temper. times that i don't. every book i read.every poem i like. every poem i hate. every poem i almost write. every fight i'm almost in. sunsets. sunrises. walks along the road. houses with gardens. foreign films with subtitles.
forty-five seconds out of every sixty.

ask me how i am to let it go?