memorabilia

I have been procrastinating writing for this post since days now. My excuse was that it wasn't ''coming to me naturally.'' This is a small memory booklet i have made for my friend and flatmate Seher who is leaving the London grounds and heading back to Karachi: the place she calls home. It is debatable what 'home' could actually be and how the role and meaning changes. But anyway, getting back to the point, I treat this work not only emotionally but also look at it as a starter for more work to come. :)

truth shall? will? or does?

truth shall set you freak, my comrade mentions.

it dawns a realisation.

as perception?

or as belief?

in the ideally justifiable existence

for you or for me, or for us?

audacious to perceive and apprehend

the truthfulness within,

or tempted to lead the sinner of power,

of loathe or of lust?

delusional?

attentive, discerned or fraudulent?

a design or method.

a source or sourced?

summarised to a sermon,

well preached but rarely followed.

p.s: i know you think you understand what you thought i said,

but i'm not sure you realise what you heard is not what i meant.

(alan greenspan: courtesy bum)

walk with me

walk with me

wait for me

something i had been trying to work on before i left for my two week holiday to italy. it was meant to be a series of random images/illustrations talking to the viewer; not telling a story per se. i am still exploring my style, so this is just the beginning i think. I hope to expand on this series and convert all the scenes into some sort of a continued sequence of episodes, happenings or moments. I shall pursue it when i feel less indifferent.

think of me

converse with me

do wait for me

unedited choices

lots of people have special hours of eureka moments:

toilet seats, showers, long walks, train journeys and

marijuana trips might be some of them. I have been

having these moments/thoughts/ideas when i go to bed.

so far this seems to be my special hour. though defining

it in itself might be a restrictive act on my conscious brain's

behalf. so even undefined for now, I have these thoughts

(are they thoughts?) that don't get interrupted by the beings

of this world. they flow, without inhibition. I have tried to wake

up immediately and write them down, but that acts like rocks

in a smoothly flowing river, that ripple, disrupt and disturb the flow.

I have to find another way, to hold them to their essence. I am

still exploring. recording does not seem to work either. It makes

me aware, thus interfering with the chain which soon begins to rust

and break in the process of the activity, which while going to sleep

doesn't seem like an 'acitivity' but becomes so while consciously

writing or recording! here is some of what i tried to write down from

last night. It is an unedited version, unpolished and seemingly crass.

I have had the temptation of making changes to varnish it up, but i

haven't given in to it yet. there it goes:

(any comments?)

"is there a thing known as destiny?

or is it a human justification of consolation?

for grief..

for joy..

to pertain the constant agony of bearing responsibility

reclaiming us to our so called destined fate.

are there different choices?

the inexhaustible from the exhaustible few we have.

now is the inconsistent constant.

the past made its contributions then

whether acknowledged or demeaned now and then!

the future is just imagery,

to make belief consistency.

is this me?

is this me characterised by you?

or is this me conditioned?

is there an ethereal layer? of me and of you,

that we cannot comprehend.

the disseminated information preconditioning

refraining us to limitations.

vibrating in isolation. an oxymoron!

active, passive or transcendent, now and then?

multi-versed or honestly cursed?

as above so below

our choices! fathomed to fate."