Just back from Shimla...and dont feel like writing a travelogue (that'll come later). Actually dont feel like sitting in office....or having a schedule...or a set of tasks. Just want to sit on the verandah of the cottage, staring at the valley below and the pine trees. Nothing but silence around you. The occassional chirp of a bird. The buzz of a bug. The book which begs for your attention but the forest seems more interesting.
The nip in the air. Clouds that come and hug you and when they move quietly away, they take away with them your worries. Here, nothing seems to matter. Nothing is important. The constant having to be somewhere.....having to do something....seems so pointless suddenly. As William Henry Davies in his poem Leisure asked "What is this life, if full of care..... we have no time to stop and stare"
She writes from the heart, says what she feels, and lives to explore. Alone in a crowd and often misunderstood, she's a nomad who finds home wherever she roams and immeasurable joy in the colours of the sunset sky. You'll find her dining alone with a book, on a table for one. This is her story.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Wilderness....and pine trees
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oh... so miss it Hannu... u've got me nostalgic again... and it keeps happening... nostalgia I mean, over and over again!!!
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