• Diary

    Red And Purple Sunrise

    This morning, I witnessed something magical. As I peeked through my window, the sky was transforming into a breathtaking canvas. The red and purple hues of the sunrise blended together in a multitude of fiery colors, casting a gentle glow over the world. The red was so deep and passionate, like the warmth of a cozy fire, while the purple added a touch of mystery and depth. Watching this spectacle, I felt a sense of peace and wonder. It was a reminder of the beauty that begins each day, often unnoticed in our busy lives. I stood there, mesmerized, letting the colors wash over me, filling me with hope and…

  • Diary

    Nostalgia’s Embrace

    As I sit quietly, the soft hum of life buzzing around me, I can’t help but be swept up by waves of nostalgia. The memories of old friends, their laughter echoing in my mind, bring a bittersweet ache to my heart. I miss them—not just their presence, but who we all were in those untouched moments of our past. There’s a certain melancholy that comes with the memories of cities as they once were. Those streets and corners where I left pieces of my younger self, where every building and every turn held a story, a secret, a smile. I long for those cities with an innocence now colored by…

  • Diary

    Return To Bleecker Playground

    In the soft embrace of nostalgia, I wandered back to the streets of my youth, my footsteps retracing paths worn by the innocent glee of my childhood. I returned to Bleecker Playground, where decades had folded into mere whispers of time, I stood, silent, recalling memories that seemed as if they came from another lifetime in some forgotten dream. The carousel of life had continued on, seemingly without me, reflected in the vibrant eyes of the children around me—carbon copies of my own young, curious self. They were radiant with the unbridled joy of life, their hearts pulsating with dreams yet to unfold, just as mine did, now forty-some years…

  • Diary

    The Evolution Of My Artistic Self

    Recently, it occurred to me that there is an artist nesting inside everyone. Within me, this artist has taken many forms, a metamorphosis that has shaped not only my work but also who I am. My journey in artistic expression began with prose – words were my initial muse. They danced from my mind to the paper with a grace I could never replicate in the physical world. They were my partners in the intimate tango of storytelling. Each sentence was a step, each paragraph a pivot, turning my inner monologue into a dance I could share. But, as with all first loves, my relationship with prose evolved. It was…

  • Diary

    I Am The Queen Of Introspection

    Lying in the quiet of the night, I’m often reminded of a line from a classic Simon and Garfunkel song, “The Sounds Of Silence”, “Hello darkness, my old friend.” It’s during these silent moments that I converse with myself, navigating the intricate pathways of my thoughts, feelings, and emotions. This is my realm. I am the queen of introspection. Life has thrown its fair share of curveballs, and with each experience, I’ve taken a step back to understand it, to see how it fits into the bigger picture of my journey. Many may see this as overthinking or overanalyzing, but for me, it’s my way of connecting the dots. As…

  • Diary

    The Midnight Owl’s Unspoken Story

    In a forest swathed in the velvety embrace of the night, an enigma called the Midnight Owl reigned. This owl, with plumage as dark as the inky black sky and eyes that shimmered like a nebula, was no ordinary creature. It was said that this owl knew every secret, every whisper of the trees, every heartache of the beasts, and every dream of the stars. The Midnight Owl was a keeper of stories, a guardian of memories, and an observer of all things under the night’s canopy. Yet, there was one tale that the owl didn’t know: the story of you. Every night, when the world lay blanketed in silence,…

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    Cornerstone Content,  Diary

    Of Cakes And Conspiracies

    The knife used to cut the cake of celebration is the same one that inevitably gets used to stab one in the back, is an idea that recently came to me, harsh as a proverb, and laced with the kind of wisdom that is usually earned through a painful sequence of experiences. It wasn’t until the undulating waves of life had crashed upon my shores a few more times that I truly understood its depth, its reality, and its almost predestined inevitability. I recall the early days of my ambitious youth, days colored with the hues of success and nights scented with the fragrance of victory. Those were the times…

  • Diary

    Whispers In The Cosmos: Reflections At Dawn

    The dim light of dawn seeped through my curtains far too early this morning, disturbing a sleep I might have wished endless. In the quiet, with the world around me still lost in dreams, my mind wandered to the heavens. I gazed out my window at the stars, those mysterious spheres of incandescent gas that burn with fervent passion millions of miles from our grasp. They twinkled indifferently, not just as celestial ornaments, but as profound reminders of our mortality, reminding me of our minute existence in the grand vastness of the universe. Each flicker resonated within me, an echo of the unsettling truth that our time here is but…

  • fourth lake
    Diary

    Memories Of The 1990’s

    This morning, memories of the 1990’s unfolded before me as I let my mind wander back to those golden years. There’s a comfort in nostalgia, a gentle reminder that amidst the evolving moments of our lives, some remain etched in of our hearts, untouched and evergreen. Lately, as the brisk September wind dances through the leaves, I find myself enveloped in a warm embrace of yesteryears, a tender reunion with the moments that sculpted me into the woman I am today. I cast my memory back to the unforgettable summer of 1996—a time of blooming discoveries and the sweet taste of freedom. That summer held the magical paradox of youthful…

  • Diary

    Whispers Of The Wind

    From the instant I step onto the dew-kissed grass each morning, I am warmly welcomed by a caress of nature—a harmonious blend of forest scents, brought forth by the gentle summer breeze. To many, the countryside might merely be an expanse of land, but to me, it’s an ever-evolving landscape of life’s simplest yet profound joys. Dawn in the countryside is not just an awakening of the day, but of the soul. It’s a symphony led by nature, with melodies of chirping birds and harmonies of rustling leaves. The skies here don’t just dawn; they blossom, painting hues of ambers and pinks over the sprawling fields and undulating hills. The…