Sunday, 21 April 2013
I admit mistakes of memories, their presence in my obsessions and their unwillingness to be accountable. But still it doesn't change any thing considerable. I always remember the silence of the snow when it falls without any break. But I think I sometimes forget that it is cold only in memories. I feel like putting jacket on. I have hallucination. Experiencing something which doesn't exist my immediate outside. I have trouble feeling it all the time. I have trouble that nights get extended. It is snowing all over. I find no reason to sleep when it is snowing outside. I find people feeling comfortable when they are together. They walk in the night, they smoke and they throw snowballs. It never hurts anyone. They are for me those who come from places unknown. But I see them whenever it is snowing. Many a time they pass me and leave me behind. Sometimes they take a while to feel my presence. But it hardly happens. I always feel great jealous of long route lorry drivers. They drive long distance their own. I always imagine them crossing the falling snow all along the long way. It is a remarkable night when it is snowing. And the most obvious of all my hallucination is '59 Tavistock street'. A wonderful place to be. I think I start seriously missing another far away countryside. Which is just a passing landmass for those lorry drivers of 'sainsburry's 'superdrugs' and 'river island'. I once tried a part time job in those long route roadways. Another obsession of unaccountable memory.! There are poems I am not able to write. Like an unfinished and interrupted snowfall. I always feel sad about that. I can walk my own all the way to the end. I think I find comfort with the silence of the snow. Now I am walking unknown paths and it snowing all over again. I walk the whole day, whole evening and sometimes the whole night perhaps seeing early hours of the dawn. What matters is the silence of the snow. People passing me. I sometimes watch them making love. Together they make it all about breaking the silence, interrupting the snowfall. I find distance from love making strangers. On every path there is somebody who never finds people identifies his presence and offers him a company. I really don't care. Another handful of things which make no difference to my life. I walk a long way. May be a new way, a new night may be. East or west, i don't know, perhaps too early to fix a direction. Place unknown and strange enough for yet another handful of things which make no difference. And I always prefer to watch things that make no difference to my life. The silence is much better and comfortable.