The Strange ME

Like a butterfly flies and sits in the womb of flower my mind too flutters and tries to find places of solace to settle itself. Right now sitting before the computer, inhaling paint and listening to regular doings of hammer i feel like running from here. but wherever i turn i see people, smoke, houses, narrow lanes and it gets suffocating. Even if i try to cool down and try to settle down with surroundings, i find the boiling heat piercing my skin and to top all my miseries is the useless talks of people. All i see is sadness, grumpiness and hopelessness. Traffic, merciless sun and the sweating earthen colored faces are the characteristics of Rajasthan's summers. the rescue from all this humdrum comes from the written world and from music. I immensely admire the writings of Ruskin Bond as his writings works as ice on my strained nerves. i feel very much related to him as he loves loneliness. He enjoys in the company of nature and is a voracious reader, loves music, movies, food and books. All his likings and dis likings goes with mine.
                      All my adventures and hideouts are in the world of books. i have developed my love of nature from the poems of Wordsworth, Shelley and Keats. in the cocoon of words i live peacefully. i end here, cant bear to sit here more and get myself boiled..