Time - a cruel consolation

I came across this small epilogue in an Italian movie I watched last night.... it's quite romantic and has a line from Neruda's poem "me gustas cuando callas":)

"My friend, my confidant: don’t despair for me, or wish me well. I’ll learn to live without you. I’ll learn to breathe again, and follow my schedules. It’s just a matter of time before I’d have rationalized my love for you, and it’s just a matter of time before you’d have rationalized your sympathy for me, and soon we would have all the explanations we don’t have now.

Time is a cruel consolation: it relieves the pain, but relishes in scars. It’ll relieve us of our pains too, and teach us to embellish our scars – perhaps for its own debauchery, but to our advantage as well. I’ll be content with secondary advantages and, perhaps, you’ll discover new interests too.

But I still can’t help but be honest with you, and tell you, even though “my voice does not reach you”, that I might very well live on and learn to breath and follow my schedule, but I’d never be able to comfort in my scars."

I will write a novel someday

"I must admit it's a dilemma.... I have only myself to amuse me, but it's intellectually much more productive than any alternative... should I cry or laugh?"


p.s. I like to put quotation marks around my own words - they are written with great care and respect:)

Circular arguments

inspired by Breakfast at Tiffany's...

Ishq-yaabi-o-raqeebi ke gur tu seekhe the,
Mera raqeeb kambakht saccha ashiq nikla!