imprints on the sands of time

It has taken numerous efforts to break out of the slumber of life to start writing, to fill in those moments and those names to where they belong. For me, writing as an act is both opening and closing oneself at the same time, it lays oneself bare to the outside but in this act itself it hides. Imprints is about the small whiff of air, which when present, makes itself felt but also erases itself for what is to come. It is about the day which goes past everyday without giving us a recognisation of itself, about the life which is about leaving a small footprint on the sands without even calling out to be recognised. This very act of erasure itself is its telos. But before the final act imprints is about poetry, about sweet and "bitter fruits", banality and the dark and disorders of life .......