Even this evening life , induces me to write my bubling thoughts. This seems like some subtle addiction in better sense.Thoughts are like floating vibrations on musical stings of mind or like monsson clouds, - on my psychic sky.
So I record my thoughts ,now a days, on the Electron screen that is my sky. Or, other times I walk alone on river-side, collect dead roots or wood-pieces and try to bring back life to them, preserving their hidden expressions. Othertimes, I make skeches or paint any thing that make me interested.
Yet after all joyful play with time, I don't feel, anymore, the desire to publish or exhibit them, as i was so eager to let others know in my earlier life.
Now a days this creative joy,like floral or incense fragrance that can never be printed or advertised !
If these have any worth they will survive in higher vibrations and never die; if these- have not , no printing or painting can keep them alive.
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