Posts That Caught My Interest – 2

I recognize that a lot of bloggers – except few – bother to follow a link to read reblogs and now and again, I stumble on posts that I find myself nodding along in agreement as I read them and wish to share.

I offer these few. I found sense, laughter, reflection and inspiration. Do take a peek. I am disabling the comment button to encourage you to visit the blog sites.Image result for images of sharing

Healing properties of lemon

From homeless to Harvard graduate

Time for us all to bloom

Forgetting to be grateful

Crippling effect of poverty

Thank you for stopping by and do have a great weekend.




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Writing is Horrible! – Writing Quote Challenge Prompt

Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.
—George Orwell

This quote captures my recent thought as I thumb through a rough draft of one of my projects, gritting my teeth at the number of pages that needs to be edited. Some days I wonder if I am out of my mind, yet I know that I can’t stop. Stopping would be committing writing suicide.

It’s hard. 

But I can’t throw in the towel.

I would rather throw me

and all the demons

that come out of nowhere

into it.


Jacqueline at

Joan at

Oneta at

We are continuing the same format here and that is: there are no rules to follow. Either make up your own sayings or use a quote from a famous author that you find gives you inspiration.

Each Thursday, we will post the prompt and all you have to do is participate!

Come and join in the fun.

2 am

Night time, taxi driver, poetry, photograph

It’s 2 am

Maybe it’s the cold of the air-conditioned room that wakes me up.

Maybe it’s the bird of thoughts that fly around in my head even when my mouth has long ceased to talk.

Maybe it’s the gritty feel of microscopic desert sand, embedded and irritating my skin
reminding me that I fell asleep yet again lost in the pages of a book, never having taken that shower I said that I would take, after the walk.

The house is silent. Hubby is on a trip. The children are deeply asleep in their wonderful world of snooze.

The clock tick-tocks, in the quiet of the house, it’s relentless soft sound, sounds loud enough.

The hum of the outside seeps in. I hear the whirr of the lift. I hear the drone of cars. Somewhere there’s a cabbie scooting around with customers, there are planes bringing in and taking away visitors and then there’s me.

Wondering if a cup of soup is out of place at this hour – opening the fridge to cut a piece of cold chicken, along with not taking that shower, I forgot to eat and the hunger pangs remind me.

Brief thoughts settle for a walk in my head. I am at peace even when pieces of me are torn.

At this wee hour of the night and morning, I feel your presence.

First, you rest on my head like a Dove. Your weight is so light but your presence is solid.

Then you shift to my right shoulder for the slightest moment.

Then you dive into my heart and nestle inside.

I may not be able to find a temple to lay myself down in worship

I may not afford a ticket to Rome

But I feel you because you are here. You didn’t need a temple to visit me.

I feel you so much that I am suffused with a gratitude that I can’t describe.

I cease to question sublime moments like your presence but to soak in them.

Moments when nothing is perfect.

When all seems as it should be even when everything is chaotic and imbalanced.

It’s 2.45 am

Please check out Colline’s blog and Bernadette’s for thankful/gratitude challenges.