At last, I have once again created my space in the world wide web. And it must not remain empty. It must not make any sense as well. I have heard one can make mistakes here, contradict oneself, lie, criticize, love, hate, dream, and still be at liberty to live in a make believe world.

I am postponing a few things. Writing, for instance. Writing to capture all those interesting and funny events that I see taking place everyday while on my way to work. Some days back when I got off the 5:30 train at Reading station, I suddenly felt as though I stood at the cliff of time. I don't know what that felt like. But I could feel as though I had time under my control. The past, the present and the future. It was not like a river, or the clouds, or a windmill. No, it was not even like a sanddune. It was not even like a note of music. It was still.

A drunken man is howling at the stars. A beautiful girl is combing her eyelashes. While the train is on its way to Reading. I am stealing a few glances at a morning newspaper that is still asleep in the old woman's slender fingers. A man sitting next to me sips on his latte. Nothing made any sense. The sheer irrationality of that morning laughed at me like that mad drunken man laughing at the stars. His howl was full of scorn and contempt.

I stood at the cliff of time,
looking down ...