Blog surfing as much as I do, one tends to see an awful lot of posts where the author talks about himself or herself, in titles like ‘Random Things about Me’ and such. Though I’m pretty sure that this exuberant compilation excites pretty much only the blog author and the author’s mother, it is nonetheless a reflection of the author’s personality. So, one has to be extremely careful when putting up such lists as mentioned, and if one is bound to be brutally honest combined with being of a – how shall I put it – disposition tangential to that of the general public, the list could turn out to be potentially dangerous.
Nonetheless, the idea of talking about myself warms the cockles of my heart and I feel I must impose ‘These are a few of my favourite things’ on my singular (as in not plural) readership. So here goes. I’d like to start with ‘I like,’ though.
I like
- Being read to.
- Being sung to.
- Poetry. All things poetic.
- Words. Their capacity to express in varying degrees. Incoherent mumbles of a sleepy loved one to well-articulated and astonishingly lucid prose to abstract poetry.
- Books and the dreams they create around my head. Around. Not inside. My dreams are like auras, they cling to my head like a cloud crown.
- Long walks, jungle trail.
- Long drives, Tamilnadu roads.
- Silence + (trees and water) or (night and stars) or (bonfire + tent).
- Listening. Observing.
- Guitar.
- Open spaces. Large, airy rooms with huge French windows and natural light.
- The idea of being connected to billions of human beings through my laptop.
That’s enough torture. Thank you for reading.
