Thursday, 27 August 2015

The Fruits of Labor

And then I decided to write...

The first word that came to my mind was "PALIMPSEST". 
My city is a palimpsest.
Numerous human encounters. 
Too many faces. Too many conversations.
It is not a melting pot.
It is a space where history is the only minority.

To demand purity and originality is unjustified;
The past is as vulnerable and vague as the future.
But there is beauty in multiplicity -
the surety that there is no blank slate.

To write about oneself...
About imaginary struggles and self-made phobias.
I can visualize myself measuring "my life with coffee spoons".
But... I don't even like coffee.
I am a tea person.
Another dream crushed.

And then I decided to write about reading...

How easy it is to amplify misery!
To choose Anna Karenina over Game of Thrones;
to swing between Discipline and Punish.

Struggling to find that accurate word.
(I want something between hope and perseverance)

It is about labor, isn't it?
Typing, erasing and retyping.

It is difficult to apologize.
It is difficult to struggle and fail in love.
It is difficult to be tentative.
It is difficult to wake up.

But, it is about labor, isn't it?

All open-ended works are written by labourers.

1 comment:

  1. For me, It is about the struggle when you grapple with your thoughts and to create a succinct vision for the reader to be inquisitive and be able to form or reform the meanings which are etched in the palimpsest.
    I am just a novice. But I love your impressions.
    Hook me up in your next blog