Mosaics

I went to a place for lunch today. It was called Candies. It was really beautiful, with a whole lot of interesting mosaics. I took some pictures of them, and I'd like to share them with you. There were 28 mosaics and pictures in all, but I took pictures of only five of them. (Maybe I'm trying to tell you more about me. Hint hint!)

The Speed of Sound

Why? Questions that I need an answer for, I never seem to get. I'm sitting here on my dining table with my iPad at 11:30 at night and I'm sort of wondering what I'm doing here. In the broader scheme of things. What makes me want to blog at this time of the night? Everyone else at home is asleep. Do I want to talk to you? Do I want to say something? Is it a subconscious desire of mine, that compels me to write about the ethereal? My human sense of curiosity that makes me want to discover what's beyond? Could it be the Coldplay in my ears? The very music that drives my being? A tear rolls down my cheek. I ponder upon its existence. Why am I crying? It is not because I'm sad. I'm just wondering about everything. I begin to understand. I see the larger picture. My emotions roll over each other, creating a jumbled mess of mind, body and soul. All sense of meaning eludes me. I start to see pictures of people and places. I begin to hear sound. Laughter, happiness, a strange beat that seems to originate from within my chest. I begin to wonder about my existence. I wonder about that beat from my chest. Is it really there? Or is ir a figment of my imagination that wants me to believe I am alive. Is it maybe driven by the hope that someone, somewhere wants me to exist. It is pitch black. The only light is the glare from my screen. I feel a warm embrace, but there is not a soul around me. Maybe it is the wind. A warm shiver runs through my body. It reassures me of my existence. I am alive.

Writing Pictures

Before you get mad and me and tell me "you can write a picture dummy", I plan to do so right now. I'm no good at doing this, but I'm like ok lets try, and probably fail at this big time. Black. Pitch black. Suddenly out of the corners fothe eye you see tiny white dots emerging, but when you try to focus on them, the just vanish. Streaks of deep purple emerge, with a strange iridescence, almost neon, but not as loud. A shower of red light in what seems to be a random assortment of shades. Yellows, oranges, a hint of saffron, and an assortment of blues emerge. There is still a dark centre to it all. Something that vaguely resembles a horse's head. The azure surrounds it. Giving it a defined shape and structure. It forms a mane of deep purple, with an aura of gold, red and saffron around it. The creature emerges from the canvas, and to life. Standing eight feet tall, muscular, powerful. You can feel its aura enveloping you, leaving you awe struck. You wonder what's more to this mystical being. Then the wings burst out of its sides. One pure white, radiant, luminous, beautiful. It reminds you of all you happy memories. That's when you a distracted for a moment. You see the other wing. This one is the skeleton of a pterodactyl's wing. A single lone arc of bone, with another bone, this one vertical, protruding every ten inches. They grow smaller as they reach the end of the arc. Thats the skeleton of the other wing, you think. Awed as you are, this wing scares you. It is a reminder of your mortality. That unavoidable truth that some day, you will die. You will cease to exist. The creature stands tall and magnificent, it's eight long legs tense, and it shoots off into the night sky. You stand there watching it vanish. You wonder what you have created. You realise the beast tithe product of your emotion. You sadness, contempt, anger, greed, happiness, regret, and your love.

Now I'm Really Living

I unfortunately haven't lived a life as eventfull and interesting as some of you have. *Insert Big Sad Face* So whenever something happens, I write abou it. Sadly that don't happen every day. Therefore  there is one helluva time between between posts.
So what I'm going to do with this post is, write about a song.

 It's called 'Hey Man! (Now You're Really Living), by Eels. It's about someone surfacing from the dark waters of depression and sadness. I can sort of relate to it. 

The first verse says:
 Do you know what it's like to fall on the floor
And cry your guts out till you got no more
Hey man now you're really living

 I've done that myself, and you get a sort of chronic indigestion after that. I.Kid.You.Not. It's really hard to deal with when everything goes really wrong. It sort of makes you mad about everything, and mad at everyone. It's not fun. That much is for sure.
The second verse says:
Have you ever made love to a beautiful girl
Made you feel like it's not such a bad world
Hey man now you're really living

 I haven't made love to anyone, but I have definitely met someone who has been stuck with me the whole time. It feels really good to know that someone cares, and you can depend on that someone for a lot of emotional support.

 The third verse:
Now you're really giving everything
And you're really getting all you gave
Now you're really living what
This life is all about

That what it's all about. It's how the world demonstrates full circles. You get what you give. It may not be right now, but over time, everything sorts itself out. That's what really matters. (:

 Now I'm feeling really emotional. I'm going to start crying if I write any more of this. I'm at a public space, so I don't really thing that's a great idea.

Women Writers

I follow two blogs, one is called 'Riding a Whale' and the author has named herself 'Rubber Duck'. She writes one of the best blogs I have read, full of life and emotion. I don't even know her, but she tells a story really well, and it all becomes very personal. It's like you are actually standing there, and witnessing what is happening. It's beautiful. (: . The other blog I real is called 'Spanish Rage', and the author has named herself 'TeeHee', which I think is brilliant. Her blog is probably the best I've read so far. The way she writes is... Well I'm falling short of words to describe writing (weird eh?). It seems to make me connect with the author, even though I haven't met her for a very long time. She is the sort of person who would tell you something, without actually saying what she really means. Subtle brilliance. Is more than just telling a story. It's giving you an insight on something philosophical without meaning to. Reading between the lines. These two writers have helped me see the world in a whole new way and I am heavily indebted to them. I think that in the grander scheme of things, women have made me a better person. Better than who I was before I met them.

Voices

Every person I know has a voice of his/her own. Beautifully different from each other, yet somehow similar. Those voices embody their writing as well. Harry Potter always sounds like Daniel Radcliffe. Katniss Everdeen sounds like Jeniffer Lawrence. You get the point.

Strangely, sometimes when I haven't met someone for a long time, that someones voice is created to suit who I remember them to be. I've been reading someones writing a lot lately. I only remember how she used to laugh (: . The voice I hear when I read her writing is sort of rendered using the laugh. Her voice  is cheerful, happy, and calm. It fills every nook and cranny of my empty head with a wonderful warm felling. I enjoy listening to it. I guess you can call me a hopeless romantic of sound, but hey, thats kind of who I am. A guy who is hopelessly in love with sounds. Especially voices.

To become the dew that quenches the land

To spare the sand, the seas, the sky

I offer thee this silent sacrifice