I sit precariously and expectantly on the edge of a long weekend, as people around discuss and plan how they intend to spend the long weekend and couple of holidays, beautifully interspersed in the week to follow. Thoughts are varied and incessant, where can I travel to? to mountain as I always do, with family in the tow; travel alone on a trek or to the home our as it lives and breathes in a wistful world of my thoughts. I have toiled, and waited, till such time when some modest success would be there to back an attempt for a well deserved time off, to some far off land, where a river flows in the middle of a land clothed with shiny sands with silver spread across, with Nonu playing around in knee deep water as splendid, clear, boisterous and naughty as her eyes, through which my future shines, and Sun descends off the mountain, and bathes in the waters, as her mother, in peace, stretches her feet under a tree, reads, sometime, lifting her head, wrapping the shawl around, looking up
I am a Worshiper of Words. I ponder, I think, I write, therefore, I exist. A Blog on Literature, Philosophy and Parenting