time is precious. of late, precious time has been slipping thru my fingers like grains of fine minute sand that upon leaving gets blown away into the neighbouring vicinity of concrete and just goes to waste.

recently, i embraced nonsense, loved the sunkissed durians, enjoyed the background noise of middle road, craved for intellectual stimuli, collected clasted fragments of superficiality, reasoned my ignorance, centrifuged logic into esoteric sediments. all these in quality time.

in this space of time too since i last wrote in i encountered the multifacet society with the emancipation of idoits, the bigotry of masses, the paradoxical eccentricities of life and death and the in-betweens, the altruistic persuit of individual narcissism, i get confused.
i don't know whether to love or hate. are they writings or mirrors on the wall?

T.S.