Thursday, June 4, 2009

The Scent of Nostalgia (3)

Travels, especially those conducted in spirit, tend to fuse with ink to create a new calligraphy.

It is not the pristine sand clinging to my toes, or the scent of dry grass that cherishes my footsteps on the paths beckoning to me. The voyages that remain to be taken are emblazoned in future memory, sometimes chiding a reluctant vision to emerge out of the dreary monotony to sparkle with the fervour of an insurrection that springs forth from dejection.

There are voyages that vanquish judgement, and others that reap them in an uncommon framework to dazzle with the certainty of a revolution that fuses ideology in spirit.

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