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Saturday, December 13, 2008'♥

-erudite ignorance.-

i have a weakness for notebooks, sketch books, papers or any pages that i see myself penning words/pictures that no one else reads.

it's quite a perverse obsession , since upon buying them, i never will bring myself to put a writer's thoughts and pen to it for the fear of prying eyes. of course, needless to say, the shame of staining the white pages of a otherwise pristine state of an alterego we are after.

i cant help but to think of this affliction , as signs of a violatile ,restless spirit that wavers so frequently between contrasting worlds and words , that soon tires one out into the night.

in every story, in every sentence , the writer attempts to celebrate his/her cloying parade of honeyed reminisces that are , really just , empty words. we want to make things that happened as if they never did, and things that didnt happen look as if they did - and it's there , we run endlessly in our circles , trying to make sense of who we were, what we are and what holds in the future.

as much as i hate to admit, this love for reading, writing feels like a poison ,feeding the realisations of an empty self in the empty world.

1:34 PM








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eloera jesusa woon.

she paints skins of whom she has never known, and may never be.
she fortifies , she preserves - of what time has taken.
she dances in the silvers of her moonlight ,
with this cacophany of noises,with these falsities -they lead her hand. //

the facades that she hide behind, the facets of her life.she is but the master of puppetry.

-


Photolog

e-eipiphany

musings







proletariat

theng. yy. greg. elvin. weidong. leong.s shan. mich. sharon. nana. huisien.


Histoire

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