i heard people speak today. sometimes, when i open a book or a play, and read a conversation right in the middle of the book, i hear their conversations coming from a certain source in point of time, having a 'before'. it is quite understandable if i open a random page of the book. but funny when you actually experience a chunk of a random life in person. it happened today. i heard people talk about their lives. as if,  i accidentally chanced upon them, and so they continued their conversations with me in front instead. i heard a friend talk about a film he made recently. he came and spoke about it, and left. and then i heard someone speak about history. and law. and cinema. and acting.

i am attracted towards the written word these days. reading a word is like an idea being whispered in your ear, gently. there is nothing condescending about it. (this is not always true really). but how some things should just not be spoken of. how speaking kills it. i could not avoid listening to some conversations today and that made it difficult for me to breathe. i wanted them to stop speaking. everyone is speaking so much about that which so should not be spoken. it rather be seen or sung or played on the sitar or captured in camera.

thinking about 'being' inevitably involves death. and every death makes me realize how helplessly alive we are. as if the death of the other is the assertion of your answer-less life.

but life there is. and beautiful too, sometimes. and in a series as disconnected as my blog appears to me today. oh well. :)