3 January 2025

I have begun writing in this beautiful new book, in a diary with a green cover, ready to inhabit the creative space that is offered by the blank pages. As I said earlier, writing in a diary is often like baring yourself before the one you love, without any inhibitions and without self-consciousness. I want my lover to admire the beauty of my curves, the tiny details that make my body apart, with its moles and warts. Just like that, I want you to take in my writing with all its beauty and its flaws, completely, unconditionally. So, off to revealing my heart thoughts to my confidante.

2 January 2025

Writing in a journal often means that you are offering yourself, baring yourself  without any kind of censure. In some of the diary writing years, I have thought of publishing mine but it never happened that way because I was too busy with many things and my journal writing endeavours mostly fizzled out before the end of January. This year I want to write a journal that is worth publishing and want to create positive changes in all spheres of life

I like beginning my New Year with a little bit of introspection. Here, I am sitting with my pen and diary while the rest of the family is sleeping. For me, writing is a way of life and I love confiding in my diary almost every day unless overwhelmed with a busy work life. This year, like almost all the years that I have gone by I want to begin with a holistic goal setting of improving every part of my life including the emotional, spiritual, physical and financial spheres of life.

Seasons

You have sang of the seasons of silence, remembrance and eternal sunshine. The heart has learnt its lesson and found solace in the coincidences that life brings.

 You feel scared of the word planning and you drift through life without any plans or outline. There are moments when the heart celebrates its little victories and cries with pure delight at plain finished tasks that are in no way special.

The seasons remain and you have learnt to count the years in a way that is surprising-one that is dependent on memories and not on years. The heart longs for its lost seasons- youth, love, beauty and intellect- and celebrates through recounting one’s lost glory.