Sunday, January 27, 2013

i saw the stars dancing

so long as breath controls my body

The wood was curved in the smooth spiral of a nautilus shell.
I stared in wonder at the intricate beauty of something so small and simple.
Then I looked around at the statues and flying buttresses all around me. What astonishes me is that there is so much beauty, even in the mundane border of an ordinary church pew.
I look at the side of a building and think: if the only thing I ever made was that one rose carved out of marble, I would have made something incredible.
Looking at the side of Big Ben is an overwhelming experience.
The intricate elegance of human artistry is mind-boggling.


There was light in the midst of the darkness.
And that eerie noise of far-off music, and strange voices.
Chills ran up and down my spine, as I wandered through dark streets with lights and silhouettes in the windows.
Being utterly lost is one of the most enchanting experiences you can imagine.
Deprived of your sense of direction, all you can rely on are your senses.
Your internal compass gives way to your eyes, your ears, your nose, all seeking to understand the world around you.
Swirls of colorful light. 
Flying down dark corridors to find glimpses of light at the end, feeling soft breezes on your face, as you walk through the sky.
In the midst of the tunnel, hearing sound of cellos and violins and strange bells all mixing and intertwining with the smells of caramel, and Indian street food and paella in large vats, and the sights of lights flickering off the tunnel, and reflecting off the puddles on the ground.


A small group of birches were growing in the snow.
Birches are the epitome of the Russian trees. 
They are delicate, elegant, mournful and wintry, all wrapped up in one slender silver trunk.
Although they look fragile, they are stubborn, strong trees, shrouded in a perpetual state of twilight. 
As I walked through the snowy night, wrapped in the quiet of a trillion tiny snowflakes, I stopped in the birches, and breathed in the smells of the velvet night sky, the fresh, damp snow, and the sweet green birches.


  1. Can you do me a favor: write a book someday.

    Take your time; I don't even have to still be around to read it. Just do it.

    For US.