Journal

Cherry

Thursday 5th October

In the expansive shrinking, it's good to keep the eyes peeled and wear warm clothing.
Cherry

Wednesday 4th October

Are we women programmed to take umbrage? To misunderstand what a man thinks is a gentle thought
Cherry

October 3rd

There are two tricks to successfully surrendering to the expansion of letting your world shrink. One is to build in some daily exercise and the other is to not let your brain shrink along with it.
Cherry

Monday October 2nd 2006

There is such magic in stopping trying to make things happen. It's the only way to, well, make things happen.

In memory of Francesco Fortugno

It stops pecking the crumbs of bread that my mum scattered last evening on the terrace. It's a white pigeon. The peace flag hanging on the grille is fading but the pigeon has come to see us anyway.

A comeback

Just felt like writing a few lines. My thoughts have got sucked up in this little mind space and want to flutter. I thought, the best way is, to play with few words and put them up in a write-up. Summer has over-stayed. And, winter has started whispering, asking summer to make way so that she can step-in in her colourful attire.

15th September 2006

So, I'm one week into giving up the herb. It's not that I want to give up ' it's because my girlfriend wants me to give up, as she thinks it is unhealthy. She also doesn't like the dark-rings around my eyes.

Time On My Hands

I got used to falling asleep at three in the morning after a night full of laughter and hands colliding, your shining eyes, here I am in the dark, watching the fan wings spin over my head

Talking to Tamara

listening to their laughter in the living room, I scribbled onto a paper: 'I don't think I can do this. I'm not ready for my heart to be broken again.'
Cherry

4. Lights down...

Monday 12th December 2005 ' 12:17 am A very good while later, after we'd put some more air in that whisky bottle, Sherlock and I stepped out into the night and Denise locked the door behind us. Everyone else had long gone. Sherlock stood in the lee of the door and fashioned a rollie, which he lit with the Zippo he keeps on a string around his neck. Looking up, I saw Denise's light go on in the room above the bar. Her shadow passed across the blinds and dropped out of sight as she collapsed on her sofa. I knew that feeling.