Safe Mode

Ah. My computer is finally up and running. Got some really cool geek stuff inside the cabinet now. The year has just started out and the tramp will be kind enough not to bother you with details of the very very exciting(and much needed) hardware upgrade.

As the last year drew to a close, I realised how simplified my life has become. That is, if you don't count such grave complications such as my camera batteries running out every two days and had to be replaced by costly Duracells everytime. And since I cannot take less than 200 photos a day I underwent bouts of depression and hypertension.

It was only then that I realised that I was not going to carry this horror to the next year. So I went and got myself two pairs of good rechargeables and a charger. The year starts out with a computer upgrade. So, basically my life has no problem whatsoever. All I do is eat, take photos, write, sing songs, make music when I can and walk.

I feel kind of primitive saying all this. Very crude in a way. I almost feel gulity to be running in what Mr. Gates would call a Safe Mode With Networking. Huh! Like I care two boots!

Season's greetings to everyone. Walk on. :)
On that note here's a picture for you. And Calcutta.

Pegasus

The evenings splash down on you from nowhere. Like the falling curtain of an orange coloured play. Jumping into crisp warm clothes after bath.

Blue of Nivea. Green of Boroline.

Peeping nostrils. Soft white quilts.

And more walks.

To Medusa

You remind me of the first time it rained.

The first peck of a cold lip on the boiling broth that was.

That would have been.

Had you not rained.

Reigned.

And there always will be that fear,

That you, in fact, could have not been.

To somewhere else you would roam, on a chariot of lightning.

Showering your coldness,

Cold.

When I see people speak of you in fear,

Of how you could freeze them with one look at your motionless eyes,

Of stories of warriors and kings that looked at you

And saw no more of me,

Know.

Know that I’d looked at you of choice

Not scared of the serpents that twirled and hissed

For to your coldness so stony and grim

I owe my shape and warmth.

Oh.

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