For me the beautiful garden is real. It’s not imagination.
For me watching the beautiful wisteria first thing in the morning is magical.
For me waking up on a rainy day is peaceful.
For me imagining blossoms on the bare cherry blossom is easy.
For me the Christmas cactus is snow.
For me the Gooseberry is drama.
For me the spring is life.
For me being laid back is being purposeful.
For me the clouds and the gloom is sleep.
For me being an idiot is being home.
For me being nothing is being me.
For me being me is being worthwhile.
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8 comments:
your garden is highly complacent, an irony to your existence.
without much ado, i say-its lovely!
i didn't get it.
but it sounds interestingly charming.
holler~
yaar ye sabse boring piece laga mere ko tera...bygod u cn do much better yaar...
yaar ye sabse boring piece laga mere ko tera...bygod u cn do much better yaar...
hey deshu,
i was in mumbai for a week.
on vacation with my frens and cousins.
can u like gimme ur no.
oh and i'm sorted as of now. so maybe thats the reason why am so boring. haha
oops, i mistook this, as udayan's blog, hence the crytic shit. the irony is now creased off -
now dt i read it again after almost a fortnight... it feels interesting...
deshwal
get a life man
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