A different kind of hunger.

Restlessness. And my disdain for people like R and the Wannabe Intellectual Whore. Conversational porn. So many words; cacophonous sounds; noise. Scratching only at the surface. Their pretty sugar coating disintegrating, so easily, too easily, at my prying fingers.

Some claim to live life. They suck up the marrow of life - gorging on it. But not tasting it, savouring the juices, knowing the essence of the animal that once was - breathing, eating, sleeping, playing, hunting, killing, mating, birthing, gasping, dying. And mayhaps, they dream too. Like us.

Not their fault they are like this. No. Hold on. Why even talk about faults and blame? Who am I to judge? (Though the ones who preach most against it do so with a religious fervour.) They ARE who they ARE. And they ARE "happy" - on their own terms. I seek... because it is my time to. They do not... yet.

I wondered if people like SF are so rare. And so, I began to dumb down and numb out from the moment I stepped into the train each morning for work. Better I become one with the nothingness, than to feel the emptiness. And invite less weird looks from my colleagues with my strange comments. "Ignorance is bliss" - so says a Long-Suffering Intellectual Whore. He has a point. Not a "good" one, but a reasonable point, nonetheless.

And then, slowly, among the meaningless sounds, whispers in the wind - those who taste the marrow and the animal.

Awakening. Again.

But I also wonder. What happens when there are no more questions?

Beyond words.

For the longest time, the Intimate Strangers came and went; though some still abide. They knew the deepest and the darkest - meticulously inscribed on the stone walls. Fingers trace sleek fissures - images and words. Laid bare. (SF: "Exhibitionist!" I: "Voyeur!")

And then, there are the Familiar Strangers. They who already know, and more, even before these inscriptions. Their eyes burn with the knowing that has always been there; waiting to be awakened from their deep sleep.

"Before Words."

Perhaps, even, before Time?

From the Nothingness, we are Made.

"There is power, in Words. They change the way you see the World."

What if there are more powerful things out there than Words?

Live.

Unplugged. Looking in.

Anwar: "Ride the wave and live the moment :)"

Erm, are you sure I won't get electrocuted? Ah well, what the heck. Plugging in. Happy now?