here comes the sun

a gentle warmth from a cold winter morning sun,

a simple beauty,

simplicity devoid of unnecessary elements,

a reminder of unspoilt times,

where thoughts were faster then tongue,

and life will go its way, but beauty can only be found.

empty page

I am, much to my surprise, am living in a peculiar relief of a bizarro world version of a real conflict. Things, to my limited knowledge of understanding, seemed back to normal, if normal even exits that is. Yet here I am, in the middle of no-man's-land yet again. A rural interlude away from nowhere, proving life ever more unpredictable. All over, the background of flickering drone of monitor sets and soft hums of heavy machinery fills the air . Life goes on, but as always, there's a blue lit reminder that somewhere across, all is not well. 

Its 3 am, and about 12 degrees. Im poaching myself in my own sweat, barely comprehending of the neon signs around or what they mean. The foreign tongue, the lingoes unpredictable pattern, a language i understand not at all.  The sense of time, as much predicted, seems circular rather than linear. 

There's something unsettling about staring at this beautiful wall of black cold winter night. Its ageless unearthly darkness radiates back silently. The endless horizon, the arid landscape or some mystical transference of energy that causes people to resonate at a different level. Endlessly cycling to destruction and rebirth. Just as these walls waited for the rest, it waited for me. Because in essence, i knew that is just an empty page, waiting to be written. 

Suave amigo, suave.

i got me a hat today

and it was a hard one

it shall keep me safe

and ugly too

but it's ok

as long as its sharpied on its inside

the sax

here,

in the busy mist of the city,

i hear a lone saxophone cry to the godfather song,

i searched in vain,

through the alleys streets and crowded people,

to the places of buskers and beggars,

but could not find,

then,

i knew what it meant,

alas tears cluttered my eyes,

Toronto is finally saying goodbye.

yonge-dundas from my window

i finally noticed

no awkward pauses.

yes yes.

its the time of year

good good good

it's snowing outside

Why live? Why now? Why?

Because I've always wanted to be here. This is kinda like the last unexplored frontier of my life where the word mysterious is practically created for this place. And of course, there's that amazing secret connection that people are always unaware off. Real people, real lives.

For some, its an empty place. To me, its a place of fog and mist. The me in the past wouldn't had understand this any better than me present. But do I? If you take the common reference point of hugs and kisses and pop culture stuff, then what's left? Nothing to do with hearts, mushy texts and sickening roundabouts. All you ever need is in their eyes.

" people talking without speaking,

people hearing without listening,

people writing songs that voices never share"

There's something kinda gumbo-ass about this, like a come-to-mamma moment, a holymother... ok, you get the picture... One of the things that I do know about this is the fact that it always sounds, to me anyway, like its something that would probably suck. But it does not suck my friends, oh no.

the most beautiful

a vast emptiness

But what is it really that I want? A giant vast land that streches out seemingly out forever.

So, I've got my giaaant cuppa coffee, and now the day may commence.