Because, le savoir

Novelty, to not "draft", but delete.

Because, will chime when requested :)

Worth it

Moments like now, justify this blogs active presence.

The option, to express the tiny changes in the flow of thoughts.

Irrelevant yet mattering.

Inking away. 

Worth the oscillations.

"Meh"

Ups and downs are the constant. 

#notjust2020

Mine

I woke up wanting to (re)read books by my author.

Emphasis on my.

MY.

The books that landed into my life 'coincidentally'.

I think a milestone regarding reading was going into the bookshop at juuuuust-before-11 and browsing around for my birthday gift. I finally settled on Braithwaite's and Rowling's second(before the craze, also.. happened to not notice it was the second in the series. Hah.)

I'd remember voluntarily reading for pleasure since I was about 8 but it was at this time that I devoured Rowling's book whole in the span of probably a day and a half. I insisted on dragging Mum back (Thanks Mum!) the next day to buy the first and third book in the series (the only ones published at the time) and managed to consume them on a train ride to the Grandparents (heart heart heart)

So started the strong association of any-cash-given=must-buy-books. Which also meant I had zero interest in spending that dough anywhere else or on anything else.

I also started browsing through this one particular bookshop because it was closest to then-home and getting to know the people. They started figuring out my preferences and one day recommended this new series that had just been purchased. I read one, and the next day came back for the other three in the series.

A person I know through academics has called them 'simplistic feminist tales' but this person was a boy and has no clue what reading such 'simple' feminist tales can do the imagination of a young girl searching haphazardly for an idealism that would echo inside. It seized me.

I felt changed with it.

I felt inspired because of it.

I was charged.

Its love has propelled me into multiple degrees and pushed me to want to research the genre.

When I went back eventually to get More by the author, the staff informed me embarrassed that they had accidentally sold me books specially ordered by another person and now they were re-ordering them.

I don't think this was a coincidence. That I walked in on a day when these books were waiting for me.

I don't think it's a coincidence that I spent months and years collecting everything I could ever find by the author and ordering them through that bookshop (#daysbeforeinternetshopping)

I don't think it's a coincidence that 17 years later I'm writing about one quartet and that I'm waking up wanting to reread the other books.

And it isn't a coincidence that after all this time and half a dozen plus re-reads, they still make me laugh out loud and fill my heart with warmth.

Sometimes, the world needs more simplistic feminist tales. 

Experiments

Tiny Bubble

Floating with the breeze

ephemeral

Knowing not what a simple touch would do

to you

and the touch.

Will you make a mark?

Finally

So Long (folks), and Thanks for All the Fish

and Scene.

of the why of Drafting

Why do I keep reverting posts to drafts?
Because this space in particular is one of stark contradictions and has been for years.
since its conception.

Writing here seems like I'm calling a random Phone booth somewhere out there and pretty much anyone can receive the call. Now if it was ensured that only strangers would pick up, would I still keep talking to that silent listener? Would I share more, or less? Would I get bored because it was Guaranteed that the person listening didn't know me and essentially didn't care?
Hmm.

I guess its the mystery that makes it interesting to keep writing here. Could it be an old friend who picks up and momentarily tunes in into my today? and what if I chance upon their line and silently catch up on the absences we've created? would these tiny moments of communication light the path down the road to when we meet 10 years hence and feel like that much time hasn't passed?
Or would it be someone in the now who catches a titbit and helps me finish that thought over quick phone conversations :)

so why drafting? and why so often?
because after a while typing becomes cathartic and what spills out is sometimes meant for only intended ears... intentionally and specifically shared with some and not just left loose to wander and echo in the distant universe.

that's what it is right? My writing is just echoing.. present and vibrating away in this one place, accessible whenever someone feels like typing in the url.. or happen to be chanced upon when hopping from blog to blog (if people still do that)

just got pulled out of that visual with an abrupt dose of reality. Hello. It's 9.30 am on a Monday. #BackToWork-ish. :)