I'm so drawn to literature it's almost feel like embarking a journey venturing authors' grey matter, life or even subconscious. The wickedest souls speak the most unpalatable bitter yet veracious facts that those rational intentionally shrug it off. I could picture the alcoholic poured himself a glass of bourbon, neat, screeching the utmost earnest sober and poignant encounter as well as mocking life in a total whimsical or rather satirical sense of humor, well ironically, under the effects of intoxication. How could you not melt with the romanticist whispering endearments and enormous affections or the melancholy confession of a shattered broken heart. Despite unrestrained fickle-minded pieces, my second preference goes to the insights of most massive characters revived out of suffering, conquered overwhelming grief and triumph over the worst weather. Their pieces give me hope, the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul; courage, the urge to fly fearlessly.
And same goes to traveling which has been on top of my priority all these while. Seeing the world in different perspectives, exploring the countries that speak distinct mother tongue than ours, feeling deeply with heart and soul while standing on the soil of someone else's nations.
The restless feet of mine ain't gonna stop to satisfy my endless curiosity of all thing err'thing relentlessly, as these, all these bad habits of mine makes me truly alive as if to pulse the blood in my vein more vigorously.
Till then, toodles!
0 comments:
Post a Comment