The passing clouds outside the window form the perfect backdrop for wavering frames I see moving inside my mind.

The seeming legitimacy that existed in mind a second earlier vaporized before they could be carried out, leaving the air barren.

In times of turmoil, void or suffering, closely stays the images mirroring the lived, far seems the unknown to be; pick yourself a lens to see through, your eyes touch the distant mountains and the lived past disappears into ponzo illusions.

Sometimes I fear those noisy words boiling in an unsettling cauldron.

None of the shades of blue can paint the character of few men.

The hit and run of thoughts on ideas is a havoc.

When I stopped loving, I lost purpose; When I stopped loving myself, I lost myself.

The land wherein the need to be alone and the need to be around people is dissolved together is a complete anarchy.

Waves don't think, plan and prepare to better their rise after every fall. They are pristine as they are.