Oh, the sea and me!

Everytime, I would choose to get lost in the sea.
After all, the rhythm of waves sounds better than the chaos of horns.


Homeward bound.

Homeward bound

Home is that shade under the banyan tree.
Home is ripples in the water of the pacific.
Home is between snorkelling and para-sailing.
Home is the midnight silence or the morning cheer.
Home isn’t a place where you set your feet, it’s the place that’s engraved in your mind even after your footsteps fade away.
Home is not a place, it’s a sense of being.

Different Skies

Different SkiesOnce the wilderness fades, there erupts a desire for a city. 
A city of living, of dreams. 
The one with the tall towers and the moving stairs. 
The one with the swooshing winds and the telephone wires. 
The one where perfect telescopes and guitars are made. 
The one where after imagining, everything is built.
To a city. 
To every city. 
To a warm sky of a different city.