where home is..

i remember staring for H-O-U-R-S at this little piano and its pedals,through all the postings and through all its new locations in whatever we lived in and called home.i have played it,sung to an audience from it,pirouetted around its legs.
people don't realise how utterly lonely kids can get.lol...

murakami

first threads into haruki murakami's 'dance dance dance'
ooh what a title.
possibly one of the reasons i held onto it during one of the many room packing sessions i have been fortunate to witness at NID.
gnhhh...
i check to see the publication dates.1994.damn.14 years ago.and i'm getting to the title just now. great.the little voice in my head shrieks 'but you were twelve then!'
bleh..
i was possibly supposed to read this 5 years ago,this one's probably going to go down nastily with my new glorified standards for meaningful writing.well done milann.
what do you do when you haven't even really started a book and you already feel sorry for it being lost on you.
.
.
at this point i simply must quote from Tom Robbins 'Still Life with Woodpecker', hold on,and read..
'....they glared at her the way any intelligent persons ought to glare when what they need is a smoke,a bit,a cup of coffee,a piece of a@#,or a good fast-paced story,and all they're getting is philosophy.'
.
.

ahem..,yea getting back to the book...
he talks about a 'malicious,no make that indifferent' bit of sunlight making its way into his bedroom.reminds me of the times i've spent in that orange room of mine in pune,staring at my limbs and thinking... one day i'll make a film about this.
about the way time had become tree sap.