There are no monsters here. There’s just things that because thoughts. Messiahs and miseries, now memoirs and memories. There’s my words… Now yours.
There are no monsters here.
There’s just us, crybabies.
I like it when an experience has stayed around long enough to create a contrasting tension between the way it appeared initially and what remains of it now. Tension between the way I once took care of it and the way it’ll be cared for by someone else now.
Crybaby is just that…
A collection of experience, thoughts, memories: treasures eccentric, small-scale, maybe a little rusty and run down… But human, nonetheless.
What do I want to say with Crybaby?
Honour the human in you. Celebrate yourself. Care brings hardship. The person you nurtured yourself into was cared for… Not by hardship…but, by you.
There are no monsters here. Just the human in me and you.
Crybaby is remnants of those human memories. Marks made by me. Somewhere, made by made by you too.
Memories flowing through battered old parches, still beaches, porcelain statues, quiet and cosy balconies. Words whispering remnants of me and I hope somewhere in here there’s too whispers of you.
There are no monsters here…
Just us, crybabies.
Keep on keeping on!
“BADE TUM CHALO”