19 August 2012
Another holiday about to end. Pen goes to paper in another dazzling city. The skies above breaking into loud roars. The beautiful sea seeping between the land. Chatter consumed by music, little drops of rain; usual scenario for the return of a writer. I don't see why I don't write as often anymore. It's magical. A drug for everything. I'll be floating in the skies soon. As millions of planes leave the same airport. Partings, sorrowful goodbyes and warm greetings; just as life is filled with - although the goodbyes always seems to be harder. Even though we didn't want to replace them with the things we lost in the first place. How strange - it's how we get attached to things until we lose them, until they run away - or until we do.
It's the return of a writer and departure of a million - lovers, artists, musicians, adventurers, lost souls.. a million miles away, exquisite, busy land.
Return Of A Writer • Opuss № I