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Thought_1Let's say that a blind man sat down in front the public piano and has started to play the tone of the day. There are a lot people around him, going about their business, not paying any attention to the blind man's music. Not even a single tone. Too busy with their lives. Nevertheless, the blind man continues to play his beautifully assembled notes until his fingers start to numb, and they start to ache.
At that day, if another passing by man decides to momentarily pause whatever he is doing only to listen to the blind man's music for a second or two; and if a woman, across from the man does the same, and if the two of their eyes somehow, someway meet, then something beautiful might start to happen.
No matter how blind the blind man is, as he continues to hit the piano keys with his almost numb fingers, he will somehow ''see'' the man and the woman's pleasant greeting, and then he will smile quietly to himself before getting up from his seat to go home.
When he will go
"I dreamed I was a butterfly and did not know whether I was dreaming I was a
butterfly or a butterfly dreaming it was me."
Book of Chang-Tzu
There once was a Cliffhanger who was hanging for such a long time that he forgot time itself. He lost count of days, months, years, everything. He had no idea how long he had been like that. He would just hang there. No one knew exactly what happened that caused him to be in that situation, no one knew anything. They just knew that he was simply hanging and nothing more. He was hanging for so long that he became delusional and had many dreams. He had dreams where he was with his loved ones, the ones who really mattered to him the most. He had dreams where he was left angry and restless. He had dreams where was all by himself, alone somewhere. He had dreams where he was busy with things. The notion of being a cliffhanger did not upset this fellow, rather what did, what really upset him were his dreams. He could not figure out the duration of each o
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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