Except that there are too many shots I miss. And I could only fit frames in seconds. And instead, moments drift. The dandelion passes swiftly. The bird flies away. The rows of flowering trees won’t tell me their secret in a shot.
And so I write these down instead. I write for me and for sharing a bit of the world that lives in me. Hoping that one day, I am bestowed the gift, lent the Genius, to capture moments in prose, in a thousand words. And that someone somewhere reads them. Without pictures.More
Today, a friend’s father passed on. I am at that age when parents grow old. When life demands we welcome the withering of those we once found invincible. When we start marking more and more folds in the eyes of the ones we looked up to. When they begin to stoop and we are now […]More