Vincent

I love the paintings of Van Gogh. They breathe life. They speak of restlessness and built-up energy, waiting to be unleashed. They reflect the innermost stirrings that drive a human being to follow his will and true purpose of existence.

The thing I find most fascinating, is the way he signed his name . It seems almost gentle in comparison to the aggression of his work. Quite a contrast.

An afternoon with dad

I went camera-browsing this morning. In the process, I realized the immense difference between my desires and my means, and eventually gave up at a point when I was certain that all the desires were floating out of reach. The easiest thing to do would probably be to simply lower my wants.
Which may not be very difficult, coming to think of it.

I spent about an hour in a second hand book-store with my dad, and picked up some good reading material for myself. It's a good thing it's a long weekend. The book-store afternoon was followed by a stop-over for a bite at a nice new place called 'The French Loaf'. This place is small, but has a fresh ambiance and a few interesting black and white photographs on the walls, in clean black frames. Simple, neat and charming. And of course, tasty (not to mention, well-adorned) gateaux.

The only thing disturbing my peace of mind these days is some atrociously loud music that is played in the neighborhood grounds every single evening. It is especially aggravating when you are all provided for with free time, pleasant weather, and a good book. I suppose it is a disturbing outcome of the wedding season.

A striking ray

I saw something beautiful on the way back home. I was sitting on the bus, the lace curtains drawn. (Yes, lace curtains.) A single ray of sunlight found its way through the intricate mesh of lace, and split into the colours of the spectrum.

That was it. A fine rainbow, no wider than a ray.

Last week, and the weekend

The last week was a hectic one, followed by an unusually quiet weekend. Every evening after work was spent in going for one event after another, including an Odyssey dance performance, a dinner at a dosa joint with friends, a dinner to celebrate the birthday of a friend at a nice place that serves Spanish tapas, another birthday party... Little wonder that although I had enjoyed myself, I hardly wanted to step out of home on Saturday. A good chunk of this blessed day was devoted to sleep... glorious sleep.

My uncle, recently having returned from a vacation to France and Belgium, presented me with a book on recepies for Gazpachos. I'm looking forward to trying out one of them (after the rennovation of our kitchen is complete), and simutaneously, a few French lessons, as the book is in French.

I tried reading a little French poetry this evening. Some of it is pretty beautiful, provided you understand it first. I suppose I should start reading more English poetry too. I'm missing out on something.

I'm back to work tomorrow. I'll turn in for the day now.