shrivelled up crouched in Kindles floating in new forms pages not aligned yet the flow is fine…   crystallized experience garnished with imagination sketches and metaphors concealed identities peeking through from characters   books will never cease to fascinate to alleviate to mitigate pain seemingly intolerable.. Came across this pic of a public …

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holding fragile truth in cracks of my hands fearing dissipation of cherished fragrances shedding of petals which adorn life   petals which perish but blossom again in new colors, shapes define sensibilities give new dimensions to senses in a post-truth era and fix all fixers


It seems silly to rolling on grass taste winds inhale skies get lost in the universe out of traps I dwelt in   it feels good it’s liberating to stand close to touch another no rules ro intervene   Nirvana This is it This is it….


people on a sacrosanct mission following propagating the leader’s rules quashing disagreement   getting into malleable frames easy to manipulate easy to be directed on preordained paths not knowing whose interest it serves but fired up… nevertheless   magic of Opium never ceases to surprise me