The winds tonight
so cold and piercing
so sharp and biting
just cutting through

The winds tonight
so frore and freezing
so icy, frosty
so much like you

I, for one, could never ...

she dreamt of spaces, corners, turns
of dying lies and false concerns
I dreamt of love and passions, free
I dreamt of her, she dreamt of me

Sweet child, where do you go from here.

When you stop writing, you stop thinking as well. Its been quite a while since I actually wrote something and with the previous premise, it implies that I have stopped thinking as well. With so many things going around, may be its better to be an amalgam of the scarecrow, tin-man and lion. So where, my friend, is the yellow brick road?


Ford: What's with the whole two-head thing?
Zaphod: Oh, yeah, apparently you can't be president with a whole brain.

~Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

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I don't like Lahore today. The mall road is blocked. You cant come in from the cantt side, you cant leave to the cantt side. Theres almost zero traffic on the roads and all you see is MPs, traffic police, rangeers and poilcemen wandering around or just standing with those big rectangular things in their hands ( the ones used to hold back the stones when they fall ). It reeks of something i havent smelled all my life living here and to top it, i dont know what it is. Perhaps its fear or oppression or bloated egos or effusive emotions or just good old mass stupidity. Whatever it is, its taking away the spirit of my city, making it seem like a dried leaf blown away on the road by a stong breeze, a leaf which is an epitome of beauty as it sways over the air cussions slowly falling to the ground, but has the ultimate fate of being crushed over by passing cars a million times until all that is left of it is a bleak piece of tattered and dead veins. May be i just got off the wrong side of the bed, but I dont like Lahore today.