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October 28, 2010


Madness is the inability to communicate your ideas. It’s as if you were in a foreign country, able to see and understand everything that’s going on around you, but incapable of explaining what you need to know or of being helped, because you don’t understand the language they speak there.

We’ve all felt that.

And all of us, one way or another, are mad.


– Paulo Coelho

How often have felt like that. Seeing, reading and understanding. Wanting to say something yet unable to string those words and knit into some beautiful (or even ugly) sentences. Quite often faced with all that. Have felt that how often people have thought of me as eccentric or simply a mad guy. All those weird texts and mails sent in BCC. I know many of them would have been deleted even without having been read. Yet out of extreme restiveness, searched those weird things and have sent again and again. In wanting to be different, trying to make an identity I end up destroying the very identity itself.  Sometimes the path seems to go nowhere. Searching the goal has become the most importatnt goal, it appears. And time, as always, appears to be slipping out of hand as if holding the sand in hand on seashore. Yet one HOPE somewhere flickering keeps me going on. If not for myself then atleast for people aroud me.

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