Sunday, 24 April 2011


How can you describe that which you cannot even define?

A sense of warped deja vu, where everything falls into familiar place, yet everything seems strangely fresh and as if like seen from an original perspective.

The furniture in that old childhood room that you revisit, where you can obviously accept the passing of time, yet your gut screams out loud in favour of that same old familiarity that has transformed the essence of your memory, into something new, which only now do you begin to accept and appreciate as innovative. To you, everything (though slightly changed) is still in place. Where it should be.

I doubt if I am making any sense, again.

Where I'm getting at, is the question of how you manage to recognise whether a beautiful sentiment is only just that, or whether it stands guard in front of a deeper path unfolding before your very eyes, enveloping your whole being as it does so, and convincing you to look away, while it's preparing its onslaught towards rendering you defenceless in a matter of days...


Nuff said.

Monday, 18 April 2011