Leaves that flutter in the lazy breeze, little songsters of the woods, eager beaver grass heads that start peeping out at the threshold of spring, trotting squirrels that spread cheer around- these are some of the every day sights and sounds that give me an urge to write.
People have always been a fascination for me; I love their subtleties rather than overt behaviors. Pain is a great inspiration, especially pain that I see in the lives of others. When I stop to write about them, I feel one with them, my heart really goes out to them, and that I feel is my way of response, an honest reciprocation.
Things about myself that I am unable to comprehend; there are quite a few. The way my mind takes me on a high when I am with the written word, the way my existence elevates a few notches higher when I listen to the spoken word; those brilliantly expressed ones that touch the heart and exhort the mind to soar higher- these are beyond my words to express, nevertheless, I do make an attempt. Then again, the conflict of family over self, or self over family, whichever way the tide decides to turn at a particular moment in time, moves my fingers to pelt down words endlessly.