The temporary beauty.

So something quite popular in my instagram feed is nail art, and not any normal white dots on red polish pieces, full on paintings of favorite acts, books, animals, etc and the best part being their life is one day. 

As a sad former art student (forced till 10th) and a current arts (humanities yay!) student what has confused me is why would someone let something so beautiful be temporary. for example, yesterday i watched a video of a lady painstakingly painting on a cheetah (glittery green eyes and all) and today a picture a picture of her bare nails, void of the art painted on yesterday. such was the temporariness. if i were to make something so pretty it would be with a tattoo machine, on my body, cause the fact is a tattoo lasts forever. (or was it diamonds? I Dunno).

If my computer were ever to be formatted I would regret the deletion of the million drafts I have written.Nothing major, just a few lines which may never see the light of day but, something I hold close to e .similarly with things, I’m a sad collector of everything from empty pens to newspapers, and the fact is, I don’t even ever open or use the again but their physical presence is something i need and something my mother detests. Its like little chunks of my memory are stored in the cloud accounts of these artifacts (see it?) and if I were to lose them, i were to lose the memory.

So really how could one live in the temporary. how could one not want permanent chunks. tell me in the comments below.

Forever confused,




I’m a dreamer, As obsessive as one can be.

dream about Mountains, dream about valleys, dream about the far seas

Dream about the blessed salt drenched smell of the beach, The fresh mountain air

the experiences that could be.

Dream about people, tall and short

dream about trees.

dream about the gravel being crunched under my feet

dream about what i could see.

dream about the things i could eat,

savour themin my mouth

let out a loud sigh and thank the food god

dream about the day when my passport runs out pages

and when my bucket list becomes empty

dream about the day i couldspeak a handful of languages

and deal with various currencies

dream about the experiences i’m missing

and the post cards to collect

dream about the various suitcases

waiting to be fed

dream about the life, that is meant to be