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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
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More