We’re all filled with ideas. Of things. People. Places. We try to give everything a name. Does that make any thing idea/thing any more real than it already is? Or does it create a sense of stability? I sit at the computer, pondering over words, wondering why is it important to write down this post? Are we incapable of keeping out ideas to ourselves that we try to include other people into our spheres?
Multiple perceptions is always a good thing, mind you. But aren’t we all just a whole truckload of ideas? If not for ideas, what do we see? Perception ends up being a very personal affair. Because after all, what you read is yours; and what I write – mine. Is everyone else secretly writing down a story? Their story? In a myriad forms that the person is hidden beneath layers of paint, words, fabric, metal and what not?
The grave is adorned with flowers so lifelike, hat they’re artificial. Of course it smells just as you want it to – old books, tea dust, happiness whatever. A new story for the hieroglyphic epitaph you carved there each time you weep. These are your ideas, after all.
Imagine ideas – although this sounds much like the tagline of some tech startup, it’s more intrinsic to us. It’s a constant process that we’re submerged into. And sometimes this intangible mass acquires new connections, trying to create another idea on top of this first one.
Like Margo’s crosshatched stories from Paper Towns ( by John Green. As a side note, read this book!).
So yep. I reread Paper Towns and, yes, I definitely classify this book as one of my faves. Finishing it (again) brought this onslaught of pre-sleep nocturnal musings that had to be penned down. More ideas for the world. A chance to (perhaps) show someone a different vein of thought. Or if you landed up in a similar cesspool of emptiness, adjectives and feeling the need to open up the grave Margo and Q built, well hello there!
I want to go to an Agloe-place. A paper town. For two reasons : 1. Because of the book. 2. This is where things become a whole lot complicated to just say I want to. Will it be a ‘perhaps’ not necessarily ‘great’? Maybe. Or strings will unravel or tangle or get stretched to what seems like infinity. Or break.
One month from now, to use the cliché, I’ll start a new journey. Yes, it’s going to be all exciting and adventurous, but it’ll be interesting to see how (my) ideas change. Time to dig out my little black book.