Footprints on a Fading Fragrance
“My tribute to the world of magical realism. Where Imagination, too, is imaginary. The world of paradoxes and fallacies. Standing on the edge of the dreams. Falling asleep. Falling. A fall against gravity. And suddenly you realize that you have transcended space and now, are falling in time. To the beginnings of eternity. Illusions.”
“On one sudden day I stopped writing poetry. Like many other people, I did not know why I wrote poems and could not know why I stopped. But then, slowly, words once again started playing in my head. And I tried to return to the abandoned spaces in my heart. Thus, I started this blog for posting, what I would not make a mistake of calling poetry, but my aspiration towards it. I make no claims of being a poet anymore.”
“It all began with a yawn.”
- An Experimental Novel
The words that comes out of your mind are unique. I like what you said about the poetry. It is the same with painting too, I think.
I will remember you, but I do not know how will I imagine you. I think I’ll see you as the Frenzy, the eye which I couldn’t decide if it’s left or right.