Love – The Art of The Hand

A Treat, a Venture

I want to take a read. A read where someone has been shot and he’s clutching the wound on his stomach while driving, and it’s raining and he’s groaning but you know he isn’t going to die just yet because he’s Russian. He’s the bad guy and he will only die if he’s looking into the eye of an American superhero; the American who will grin at him while he bleeds and he will hiss something defiant in Russian before he dies with a Cold War reminiscent sneer. A book that is simply a dark, wicked, twisted iceberg.

I am ready for the book where when there is a sudden knock at the door you look up and listen if the knock came from your door. Or a book with a woman who peels apples with a penknife wearing only blue underwear. And have pink nipples. She wears the…

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Born to Love😢

She breathes love as the wind moves the clouds above fields rich in their emerald lushness. She feels it radiate in her heart and shine out through her eyes so full of hope because she loves with the force of a thousand armies yet with the softness of momma’s arms. Yet it seems that no matter how sweet her kisses are, or how pure her heart, she is just never the first choice.

She doesn’t just love — she is love.

It’s not that she always questions her worth, baut it just seems that no one else can read the language of her heart, no matter how many times she bares it. She thinks that once it may happen—that someone would stand up and say that he chooses her above all others—but then reality would creep in like the black smoke churning from a midwinter’s fire, and she’d be left alone and shaken to her core once again. Continue reading “Born to Love😢”

Flip A Page

I go back into my yesterdays, at times and bathe my mind in beautiful memories of your past love. It softens the influences of present worries and annoyances. It gives a source of escape from the unpleasant harsh realities of life and maybe – who knows? – My mind will yield to me, during a temporary delusion into the world of fantasy.

They say memories of love never pass. They linger, guide and influence long after the source of stimulation has faded. Well, I recall the first time we met back in 2017. The day started with morning sun reflecting on the window pane and contrasting few colors while some were too faint to be observed. The colors formed an apparition of a blossoming flower rich in colors, which spread its petals in every direction. Back then, I was kind of a loner. I didn’t talk much, didn’t smile much. I can’t even recall the last time I made eye contact with anyone. I was working on a project on entomopathogenic nematodes and usually had to report to the field, lab and the local library in that chronological order. I could say my day was scientifically occupied and well, a person who likes being alone, I was just doing fine. Continue reading “Flip A Page”