After going through a brief spell of feeling like I am totally disenchanted with all movies, all shows and basically most of the things in life in general, including food, I was suddenly pleasantly revitalized by this Japanese reality show about 6 people living in a house and their relationships. I live in USA, but I feel the emotional quotient is pretty low among westerners, or maybe I just don’t feel it because its expressed differently. Anyway, so I was missing that emotional connect with life around me, and this series gave me just that. I like the cultured, soft demeanour of the japanese people, about how they take their time to say or do things. Everything is well thought out. They are slow to react and slow to take decisions regarding relationships. And very sensitive to each others’ feelings and thoughts. So, yeah so for some time life looks brighter again. So, for sometime life looks brighter with Terrace House. Thank you Netflix!!
Maybe someday you may make a mistake…
and wander into my streets, by mistake, my love.
My love remained inside, unsaid, captive in my heart,
Never got a chance to be free and flowing like a
Meandering carefree stream.
It just fluttered inside like a captive bird, and then
Sat quietly, hopeless and giving up.
Longingly I looked for the blue,
The blue of your eyes, the blue of your smile.
The sun set and closed another day.
And I asked you yet again,
Cant I be with you for a while,
I don’t ask a lifetime, for that is too long,
Stay and hold me close and let me feel your heart
Beating near my face,
Under the shade of the tree lets sit,
And forget time, age and place…
RuPaul in an interview with The Vulture. This sums up the reasons I have considered Clinton more qualified than any candidate in 4 dozen years. LBJ is probably the last candidate that could pull off what I think Clinton is capable of. I have found Sanders ideals attractive. But Clinton shows all the grime and […]
Each day I can see myself die
Just a little each day,
Losing the sparkle in my eye
Just a little each day,
No, I dare not think of it,
for fear I will just sit and cry,
So I smile with my honey lips
The smile of a ghost, who was
dead long ago,
Died in the monotony of everyday chores
and dishes to be washed,
and daily dinners and lunches,
There was no time to live,
to paint the beautiful skies,
in colors of blue, and yellow and gold,
There was only the boiling pot,
of meat, and potatoes and beans,
rice and tomatoes and spices,
colors of brown, red, and green,
They washed each day away,
and ushered in the darkness,
The moon was just a ghostly light,
Not to be looked at for long,
With smiling eyes, hands touched by warm hands,
Yes, I die each day little by little,
Each day the same as the day past,
The colors are gone to the faraway land
of smiles, and laughter, and sunshine,
and I can only see them, when I sleep
my darkest sleep, one day.
Tumhare liye the ansoon.
Jinka mol magar kuch nahi tha.
Bas bathe the apni dhun mein..
Kabhi shaamon ko kabhi subah
Tum the apne khayalon mein
Rangeen thi tumhari duniya
Dost the tumhare bahot…
Khamosh thi magar..meri duniya
Na awaaz koi, na hi koi umang..
Bas yaadein thi tumhari..aur wohi
thi meri choti si duniya..