Two thousand eight
Might be just a date
But its a good time to wonder if fate,
Will drop these on our plate
until next time, that makes a manuscrypts happy new year
Two thousand eight
Might be just a date
But its a good time to wonder if fate,
Will drop these on our plate
until next time, that makes a manuscrypts happy new year
Choices and options. Similar yet different. Colorful and black & white respectively. Choices are made, options are taken. To make a choice, one reasons with self, and perhaps has to walk a new road. An option is at best a judgment,among the different ones available, the road is one that has been walked on.
until next time, the choice is yours
He couldn’t believe he’d landed on a burner. He was used to landing on weird things but this was taking it too far. He’d had misgivings from the time he’d started to squeeze himself into that tiny sprout like thing. He’d never seen electric chimneys before. So he really couldn’t be blamed for being shocked.
until next time merry xmas
The heartwarming picture of a little girl holding balloons, while the uncaring world rushed past her, on the busy road. He remembered how much fun balloons and childhood used to be. But wait, there was something wrong with the picture- she wasn’t looking too happy. Was it only because no one was buying her balloons?
until next time, hot air all around
They dreamt of leading a life that was different. Not that this was bad, but it was quite unidimensional. They imagined a place where people led lives of greed, lust, gluttony and all the so called sins, different from the chaste lives they led here. The utopians even had a word for that place – earth.
until next time, opposites attract
On a busy city road, they raced. Only one knew the race was on. And he was sure of winning, until his ‘opponent’ took a turn. Quite like life, he thought, the way he compared and competed with others. Perhaps the challenge was to not to win the race, but to figure out one’s destination.
until next time, race on
It starts from the time we are born. The tags, from a cute baby to a skinny schoolboy to a bookish student to a rebellious teen to a brash young man and son to name some, and then follow us into the professional life too. Tags, which perhaps constrain us, which make us being, and prevent us from becoming.
It had to be black or white. Then came the greys, and then, the different colors, a justification for all that we did. But then came the social sites, who just might bring it back to square one. Friendship requests to be answered with a yes or no. A digital age with a binary code.
until next time, zero or one?