:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

at times, I have so many things in my head that I feel petrified. unable to see what I want or what I should be doing. but I guess our fears are both boundaries and triggers, so let’s go for the latter.

for some time, I’ve been questioning the essence of blogging. I guess I’m not talking about foodbeam; because, there, it makes sense for me to speak about something I know.
but here, on my petit navire, it’s been feeling awkward. life is not something we can master. so really, is it possible to write about this? and if we do, what’s the point?

and yet, when I read other people’s words, they make me travel, discover unexplored parts of the world or even – and perhaps more importantly – unexplored parts of the mind.

because life may not be our core competency, but it’s something we can share with the people we love and who love us.

and I really hope that wherever you are in the world right now, this little space – pointless or not – does bring you happiness, just like my own life does.

I would very much be interested in what makes you write or read a personal blog?

tags: , , , , , , , , .