This was a letter I wrote to myself, just after I read the amazing book, All the Bright Places, by Jennifer Niven. As far as art goes, this book, was nothing short of a masterpiece. Choked with tears and laughter, this is what I wrote:
May your eye go to the sun, to the wind your soul…
You are all the colours in one, at full brightness.
I don’t know when I read it, or even if I read them at all because I may find something new and life is unpredictable and unnerving and underestimated, its beautiful because we seek to live in a world which we only own and it is not-so-beautiful, when the fragile glasses of our world is shattered into pieces by the incoming rail of another’s world. And I may have ranted so much about this, and I wanted to get it out of my system, but the thing is that as much I enjoy sermons and projects and opportunities, I believe the objective of me, staying on this earth, has not been revealed to me yet. I write because I sincerely am loving it, and truth be told, yes, here is no time or money for it. Writing comes to me, as it is right now, as the currents of a river, flashing back and forth from its shore to depth. It is tranquil and peaceful and ringed with voices of something unheard and untrue. I would very much like to continue this passion of mine, where words spill in a not-so-orderly fashion and in which I exist in a dimension which is unbreakable.
Letters to myself//25.10.16