every siren is a symphony and every tear is a waterfall

the first mosque in all of india - qutub minar.

welcome to delhi, india

That's the difference between heaven and hell. In hell we starve. In heaven we feed each other.

I figure the day I'll be at peace I wont be scared of dying. I would love nothing more but to give my imagination of a mind to the answers of religion and faith. What simple life it would be to know deep down what awaits. Peace has to be the strangest stranger to fear. I'd let religion take me, lift me up and steel my worries, but rain would find a way fall on this still peaceful river to give me waves of shades, hiding in the heavenly light. There is this desire beyond answers and logic. A feeling, a sent. Peace is not to figure out the mystery, it's to accept it. Truth in honesty. A feeling, a breeze. Peace comes from within, I've heard. Peace is everywhere, it's already resting inside of us, it has nothing to do with tradition or history, only will and understanding. God, whatever that may be, is in kind hearts and kind hearts are greater than any death or tragic. Therefor the great mystery that we feel, smell and breath, is love. The very worn out word that makes us. The mystery is how the hell all of the loving love feelings can fit in our tiny bodies. We should be wales floating in the sea, there is no logic in love. There is no answer to the mystery. There is nothing to do but to accept this and make peace with the limit of our imagination. To be a strange stranger to the fairest of fears. To love love love as big as wales and and deep as oceans.  

Thank you dearest grandma' for the lovely card, happy valentines day everyone. share the love.

Sometimes for a reason, sometimes without.

In pretending to be a man in love, he became a man in love.

Maybe we can find new ways to fall apart ?

Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives it's ease and builds a heaven in hell's despair.

my greatest regret is how much i believed in the future

we could imagine all sorts of universes unlike this one, but this the one that happened.

He said to me ”I'd like to be free.” A short question, a deep desire and some hope hiding in his pocket. An Indian summer and bare feet. With half a smile on his face, I understood him. I knew him, without knowing. Heavy boots like me, heavy with dreams and complexes. Heavy with effort and long lost love. Heartaches, but no regrets. Just difficulties living for the moment. He was an old dreamer who saw his life but felt apart from it. Bittersweet, a bleeding diamond. I guess the happy ones are fools for smiles. Drawn to white lies and influence. And there we were, loving our burdens, longing for truth and provoking art. Facing ourselves as we were, naked. Freedom would be kind enough to come, but we don't welcome it. We're praying for millions without buying lottery tickets.

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