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Memory Man

As a child I had a wish of a photographic memory. Oh my pleasure when a teacher had said that maybe I had! Read/see something once and remember it all your life. No revisions, no studying before exams, no homework - just reading in class enough!! But then as I grew up, I realised what a curse it was. No, I do not have one but certain moments tend to get indelibly imprinted on your brain, which I cannot seem to shake off no matter how much I try. There are instances you want to forget - a bad boo boo you did, a moment of personal shame, a sweet memory that now cuts you to the core. But then one realises that there are no pros without cons. Memory Man by David Baldacci is the story of one such man. Amos Decker, a hyperthymesiac following a hit in which he died twice and came back is reeling under the memory of murders of his family. He starts to put his life back together when more than one and half year later his town is venue to a mass shooting, which is just the first link...
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He Sleeps in a Storm

" A man seeks employment on a farm. He hands his letter of recommendation to his new employer. It read simply, 'He sleeps in a storm'. "The owner is desperate for help, so he hires the man. "Several weeks pass, and suddenly, in the middle of the night, a powerful storm rips through the valley. "Awakened by the swirling rain and howling wind, the owner leaps out of bed. He calls for his new hired hand, but the man is sleeping soundly. "So he dashes off to the barn. He sees, to his amazement, that the animals are secure with plenty of feed. "He runs to the field. He sees the bales of wheat have been bound and are wrapped in tarpaulins. "He races to the silo. The doors are latched, and the grain is dry. "And then he understands. 'He sleeps in a storm.' "                                                               ...

The Twins

I walked a mile with Pleasure; She chatted all the way; But left me none the wiser For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow, And ne'er a word said she; But, oh! the things I learned from her, When Sorrow walked with me.                                                                                                       No, these lines are not by me. Oh!!! If only they were!!! 
There were times when the feeling was not there - a fleeting moment of consciousness, of awareness, a feeling of weightlessness as fit had been a feather on her chest, and not a boulder. She had seen that form before. She was sure of it. She knew that shape well. Where, where was it? Two years, four years ago? No, no... it was way more recent. It had been there just a week back.

My Night, My Love

Days traditionally have been very well documented. When to start, how to go about, best way to end - the possibilities are endless. One can fill volumes with the quotes and quips exciting us about the same. For me however, night is way more fascinating. It is dark, deep, mysterious and , above all, mocking of us - much like our real self that comes out then.