I stumbled into this site and its nice. read the note. it was a stange feeling. there are so many people in this world who are "different". do we really know anyone? even our prosaic or comical or paati everyday ordinary neighbour ...
what are the thots that go thru his head?
who knows? who thinks? who even allows him to have "strange thots"

we, who are the illegitimate children of two so unwed cultures ...
how quick we are to judge them and say assume they wont ever ever ever understand us the way we are
and so thinking we enter, there very playgrounds armed with multi colored masks
pretend, pretend, its all pretend

we think the nether lands of the mind are our private preserve?
we think we are the lone peregrines in the wastelands of black darkness and grey despair
thots of death and suicide or murder and vacany ... journeys to blank space
our sole sojournes?

Theres more 2 explore,
but 2mrw is another day ...
And I am, even now, wondering whats the e version of writer cramp?