Blighted light

It is getting too sunny for me. Even at 6 pm the room is brightly lit. There is a strange tango as my lips, hot and baked by the rays, touch the rim of the glass with frost on it. The drink is cool, a lime or rose sherbet.

My eyes blink against the sun…I like staring at it directly as I do almost anything that I am communicating with or confronting.

I can sense a film of water. These aren’t tears. But to anyone who might walk in at that moment, it would seem so. I wonder what sorrow is. Just too much sun being looked deep into and probed?

I am a moon person. Isn’t today full moon night? Hmmm…I know I will behave unusually. I do on full moon nights. I do on most nights. And days.

“Am I mad?”

“No, perhaps neurotic.”

Disturbed, irrational, phobic, hung-up, fixated. These are the meanings.

I know even conjecturing these ‘negatives’ about oneself mean being easy game; I know it can well be used against me, have been…

I do not want to be in denial. The person I had the conversation with is completely removed from my work.

As we went deeper into this dialogue, he said, “It is surprising that you at least know yourself. Not many people do.”

"Nobody realises that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal." Albert Camus

I channelise my energies in other areas. And those areas need not be accessible to people.

I do not strive to be normal.

It is not my nirvana.

I shall stare at the moon tonight, and as the clouds gather to seek union with it from afar, it will seem like they are so close together.

I shall then touch the moon -- a stretched out hand in the air pointing at the sky will feel the sullen breeze flap around it, knock on palm's door.

Can you get closer than this to anything without being hurt?

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