How many times have we resented when every thing is stripped open leaving nothing to the imagination to understand (I mean literally!), and many a times taken it as an insult to our intelligence?
How many times have we hated when someone lay everything threads bare, and ask a poignant question – Don’t you understand?
How many times have we deeply disliked the face with the perfect contour, except for the gasp of the initial reaction of amazement, that we cannot love just the perfect contour?
How many times have we tried to be the perfect mate and hated ourselves for just not being able to be our self?
How many times have we loathed in the boredom that gets generated of perfect pleasure, and seek for the basic indulgence in the ordinary?
How many times do we hate the perfect score, a full cent percent, that we can no longer can look forward for something more, but fiercely guard a vicarious position?
How many times have we hated the perfected sounds that emerge out of a “perfect” audio system, to a point that we are happy at the DJ creating noises scratching the
How many times have we raised the question, on why this perfection, and wished that an imperfect world was worth all of it?
It’s in the imperfect, that we can clearly see, learn to truly love, give, grow, adapt, cherish, create memories, enjoy the space, appreciate, abate, emote and just live, and not “exist in a seamless perfection that only is perfect in a abstract perfect world”
To imperfection ~ Gyaani