snapshot in words

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Late at a pub, sitting alone at the counter, drinking whiskey and chugging beer alternatively. Right at the corner, a band playing Zombie. Mind wanders to an Irish man whose love unrequited— his Helen was stolen. As the band recites the man’s poem and sings his grave, his long-lost muse's revived, relives second life. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2xOeBbM via IFTTT

A bough was cut from its root at one-eighth of its length; heavily wounded. Yet, small branches, shy leaves grow, from where it was cut. Dark is the color that gives life. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2ggwtkf via IFTTT

Thrones of kings were destroyed; people rule these islands, coasts lined with coconut trees, seat where sea goddesses feast, this Eden, the true paradise, fortresses build by Nature for herself, against infection and the hand of war. This happy breed of people, this gleaming world, this precious stone set in blue ocean, against the envy of less happier countries, this earth, realm and plot, this mighty archipelago, it's all ours. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2qekSoL via IFTTT

Heaven knows I long not for the stars, nor do I aim too high. I was born, earthbound. I'll fly alongside birds; though free, bound to gravity. I'll be with the sea; deep with thoughtful secrets. And I'll grow old like trees; as strong and deep-rooted. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2ohQCwM via IFTTT

Sight's a bit hazy, head's a woozy; it's a sin to wake up early, when days I can stay lazy have counted up to three. Yet, after breakfast I'll return to the embrace of warm bed and blanket. Let the sun shines away while I'm free to play, among dreamy clouds, hovering above the ground. And I'll be, after lunch maybe, aimlessly roaming pages, walking countless passages, living thousand lives of storybooks people whose ghostly existence seems to be livelier than the living. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2oSXZJB via IFTTT

Bitter coffee, sweet toffee; bittersweet path, growing up. Between the ideals and what you feel; what to believe, how to achieve. Chucked out from home, left out in a crossroad of bitter coffee ans sweet toffee; found no one to ask around. Each road's taken, each journey's different, as special, crucial and personal. Bitter coffee, sweet toffee, bittersweet path, growing up from Blogger http://ift.tt/2oRwakS via IFTTT

Wave crashing, raindrops falling, and water streaming are what I have in mind to lull me into sleeping. Crickets' happy chirping echoes till late this cold night. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2ovxFSg via IFTTT

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Fine morning, plain croissant, and bitter tea; humble day it was when Muses visit and sending me gift. But then, coffee never has enough caffeine, food always taste plain, time goes faster, days are shorter, ideas forlornly forgotten. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2pvyAXy via IFTTT

Laying on my stomach with blanket over shoulder. A good book opened against my pillow that faintly smells like my own shampoo. It's a romance, a detective story, it's a mystery, it's a fantasy. Floating like jasmine petals in a cup of tea. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2oi1Ddp via IFTTT

You can wring your laundry with all your might this weekend, but, alas, here we go again no-sun Sunday. By seven the sun is up and bright, by eight-thirty it goes in and out well-hidden among clouds. It decides to call it a day by noon, and calling rain just after lunch. Then again, no-sun Sunday. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2pECkm1 via IFTTT

Beach is stormbound; wind chimes sway wildly, restless wave, restless sea, breaking twigs, rustling leaves, shrilled heard amongst coconut trees. Seafarers notice danger; but stillness of lighthouse, amid chaos, beaming lights, giving assurance, beacon that leads them ashore. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2oxxSWY via IFTTT

The city is more lively when it's sleepy; psychedelic colors bursting at every corner. Up and down these well-lighted streets; traces of vandals in closed stores graffiti sprayed on rolling doors murals painted on the walls. Conversing in language only they know; talking to each other in deafening silence. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2pdXawa via IFTTT

Mini van, a wagon, a sedan; just toy cars among buses. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2oC8gtU via IFTTT

Up to the horizon blinding, gleaming sea reflecting sunlight proudly in all direction. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2oyaISt via IFTTT

When I least expect it, it'll catch me off guard, enfold, trap me inside, and never let me go. The thrill is too real, for me to ignore. I'll be falling too deep, too late to climb back. But I feel swell, though not know it'd be heaven or hell. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2nYnIwF via IFTTT