Out in the dark where the Sun’s hum dims

You turn and put your hand on my chest

it feels warm

then you turn away and go back to sleep

this small moment

so precious, lost to time

some say there are oceans of diamonds on Neptune



It’s night.

Everyone is asleep.

I am awake.

So are you.

The world moves, slowly.

There’s nobody else,

in our observable universe.

No signs of life, no sense of time.

Just us.

And the world moves slowly,

towards the morning light.

Right now, this.

This is so romantic.





Doodles I make

I doodle and more often than I like people relate them to mehandi.

This tells me that appreciation of abstract art at least abstract forms is present (esp. when it’s rhythmic) in my society, among the people I meet and work with. Art appreciation is mildly contagious, so I infer, by extension, that a wider demographic in my country appreciates abstract art – at least when its rhythmic and dense and looks like mehandi that is drawn on hands and feet on weddings, festivals and other special occasions.

Art is best appreciated by a society when it’s successfully baked into the culture, and forms a symbiotic relationship – feeding the culture and feeding off of the culture. This is where the Afghani gabbeh succeed, where the french band ‘A Filetta’ singing Corsican polyphony succeed and our current cultural attempts fail.

No one listens to our classical music anymore because it’s not baked into any cultural aspect.  All cinema is forgettable because it has no aspirations of becoming a part of our culture (like the marvel movies that try real hard to be a culture in themselves – an empty culture but a qualified culture nonetheless) – it assumes that the outcome of a publicity blitz will be an automatic assimilation into the nation’s culture – this is just grandstanding at best and illusory at worst.

The art forms of music and now even film are baked into our culture, but one must pay some attention to how a piece of music or film or any art can feed off of the culture and how, if done sincerely, it can feed the culture.

Now, if we could only define “culture” accurately.



It’s been raining all morning.
I have ordered food.
It’ll be cooked in really good oil.
It’ll be healthy.
Then I’ll eat it.
As the rain pours.
There are blue coloured cars.
Parked below my house.
From my fourth floor window.
I can see that.
The rainy sky reflects in their windshields.
All shiny due to the rain.
I’ll watch the blue and I’ll eat the food.
And I’ll feel happy.
And this is how I’ll pass.
The rest of my days.
Then I’ll be old.
And I’ll be wise.
Learning that I.
Should not have done.
What I did.
And I will breathe.
That last wisp with difficulty.
Wishing I had another one.
I’ll go bravely.
Accepting my fate.
And the world will.
Still have rain.
And the colour blue.
And it’ll all be pretty.
Long after am gone.
Organic Chemistry.
And Maths.