These hours are terribly frustrating. Clogged up. Scenes of perfection stitched with ebullient hopes. Terrible chaos. Zipped lips. Oh, restlessness. What can be this, or that - or, what do you think or understand - or, don't you know or can't you guess - or, this is what is should be or what it is. Not even a phonecall away from disturbance. Or peace. I can't focus. Simply. There is always this train of thought that beams like moonshine. Similar intoxicant. I guess resolution would swim up fast. To be surrounded by known faces. In comfort of similar senses. Reciprocation. A couple in the sea of so-so. Who have a lot to offer. Not scarred by malice, pride or money. Not yet, maybe never. I need to learn. Fast. Time = Essence. They are showing films, and I am missing out. Little conversations. You learn a lot from bickering and teases. Little towns where stories are simple and joys are profound. Many blabbering disgusts condolences. There is a perennial sense to explore. Look out, seek forth, never satisfied. Naive minds. Dostoevsky Saul Bass Morricone. Premen Shakti Prochet. Chocolate Ice cream Roshogolla. Dust Dreams Demons. These That Those.
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