Buckets of Rain...

These havent been the best of times.to cut down on the melodrama, let me tell you that these have been the most blah times.much like in Waiting For Godot, nothing happens in my life either. ofcourse this "nothing" has nothing to do with the existentialist, intellectual "nothing" that fills up our texts.

If life really was meaningless and futile, I would definitely like to celebrate this futility and not rot indoors by coughing my guts out.

I really feel like travelling-not the hills,not the seas but somewhere historic. Say Rome, Greece or even Orchha.there's a beautiful feeling in touching sculptures or ancient walls...it's like touching the stone but running your fingers through the volumes of stories the stones have to say.you almost want to press your ears to these stones and listen to them, as they sometimes whisper or sometimes break into some quaint song.i want to relive that weird churning in the stomach that occurs each time i enter some old palace or castle (what is the difference,anyway?) it's a feeling that almost makes you believe that you have been there before-maybe as some servant or the princess' parakeet or maybe the Queen herself!

Oh i ramble on, like i do every time my exams are approaching. maybe i should just settle for a life in Seattle-in some apartment where i'll just sit and watch sitcoms...and perhaps,get fatter and fatter. Atleast that way, i dont need to rake through my brains when i need to write four page long answers to what "nothing" means.

heh.

p.s: talking of stones that talk, the picture is of the shore temple at Mahabalipuram-one of the few places that i visited alone.