I forgot to share with you that I bought a cactus.
It’s the first plant I ever bought in my adult life. I figured a cactus will be easy to look after. This photograph is two months old but the cactus is still thriving, so at least I know I’m more nurturing than a desert.
I bought a cactus. A week later it died. And I got depressed, because I thought, Damn. I am less nurturing than a desert.
I was passing through Albert Square one day when I spotted these on the steps of the statue of Prince Albert.
Of course, a pair of shoes lying about is probably not such a phenomenon. Like, people may get drunk and lose their shoes (or at least I think they do, I wouldn’t know, I don’t drink but Ed Sheeran mentions it in one of his songs and that’s as good an authority as any) but notice how neatly they have been laid there on the step. You may have heard of the famous six-word story that goes: For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn. Attributed to Hemingway, but this is disputed. So, what if you did a similar thing based on this photo?
I’ve not been on my blog for a few days and so it passed me by that it was its birthday on 2nd September.
I get “dry” phases when I don’t post on my blog (because I don’t have anything to post, or I don’t know what to post or I’m too tired to post). This time around it’s not exactly the case as there is something I want to post about, only it’s more text-heavy so, as is ever the case with me and writing, it’s going to take me time to come up with the words.
Well that’s it, I don’t have anything else. Here’s my cat in a box:
The piece of blue tack is larger than the country on the map.
On another note, about this question I get:
Where are you from?
Yes, I know I have an accent. Believe me, nobody hates that accent more than me. It is not possible for you to be the one who hates that accent more than I do myself. If I could somehow not have that accent, I would not have it. If I could have three wishes from a genie in a bottle, one of them would be to speak like a native English speaker.
Try to have at least one full conversation with a person who has that accent. At least try to find out their name. It’s bad enough feeling insecure about one’s English without you pointing it out. I can’t be the only one thinking that redirecting the topic to one’s country of origin is kinda rude. It’s like interrupting someone–which of course certain demographics are Olympic champions at, don’t we know that.
And btw nobody cares that you once had a friend from somewhere-near-where-the-person-with-an-accent-is-from. Well, I don’t. By all means keep talking about the weather or whatever, it’s more interesting.
So I know it sounds frightfully poetic but I couldn’t think of a better title for the photograph. Although I must say, coming up with titles for my photos and blog entries is half the fun of running a blog.
I saw a picture of red roses and red candles on Instagram, which is where I got the inspiration for this. I happened to have some white flowers and I always have white tea lights and I thought black background would be the best. And so here’s the result.
I don’t know how one of the candles got snuffed out and hence the smoke that can be seen on the below picture.