Excerpt: For a long time, I have refrained from using this typical template of text preceded by a motivational quote, but couldn’t help it this time. Upon reading this entire post, you’ll realise, I somehow tweaked something to, well give your eyes some added strain. If you think this is a philosophical rant, then you’ll be a bit disappointed. Otherwise? Well go ahead and give it a good read. Do share, though!
The Mysore Palace, of the Wodeyars, was painted in the most florescent colors. The pallet artists then used to create it might make Picasso shed a tear one time. It smiled rays of colors from every end of the spectrum in splendid beauty. Its domes reflected the ornate red as the tungsten in the bulb bent to acknowledge the paler beauty that was hidden to the naked eye. When dawn was on the horizon, the palace sat in its glory, shining like a nebula amongst the darkness. Thomas Edison’s last words were, “It’s beautiful over there. I don’t know where there is, but I believe it’s somewhere, and I hope it’s beautiful.” Looking at the palace all lit up, I spoke out loud, “It is here. And it is beautiful.”
Do read and share the second post in the ‘In My City’ series of The Blue Facade.
Excerpt: You’ve always been a kooky, flaky odd-ball proudly living in your own world, a world that we all innately want to be privy of, but are secretly bounded by “societal restraints”. Your third-wave hippie nature has all of us swoon heads over heels, over your swanky outfits that range from maternity pants to shop-lift water lemons to running wildly and freely. Run, Phoebe, Run (Get the Forrest Gump, reference…)
An Open Letter to Phoebe Buffay
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