Carpe Diem!

I feel undoubtedly, happy. Because Christmas is a day of hope. It's an announcement of safety. It tells the world how lucky they really are. And how beyond they really should be looking, in life. It is the celebration of everlasting life that everyone gets to live. Irrespective of what/who they are.
Christmas is the red of homemade wine. It's the marzipan sweets that melt in your mouth and make you smile.The glittering green tree. The snowflakes. The carols that play in your ears long after they're sung. And everyone should enjoy it.

Merry Christmas to all.

xoxo

Even more than mathematics, lust may the universal language. In its most elemental form, lust can be tantalizing, enthralling, contagious. But just as often it can be awkward, off-putting, messy- grotesque, even. There’s typically an edge of desperation to lust, which makes it terribly, (really, terribly) compelling. And it has tragicomic dimensions, too, which are easiest to discern in creatures (witness the family pet in heat, McDonalds customers wolfing down giant cheeseburgers, or crazed shoppers fighting over bargains), even as we recognize a bit of ourselves in the graceless spectacle.
Humans bring momentum, cunning and infinite variety to lust, stretching and distorting its contours. Lust begins in our imagination as a sexual thing – an oddly pleasurable form of temporary insanity, in ideal circumstances a madness indulged with a loved one- but for many of us, it can have everything or nothing to do with sex. Lust is, or becomes about power. About acquisition (of money or objects or people). Control. Wanting. Devouring. And the most interesting thing of all is what happens in the space between desperately wanting and finally having (or not having): the manner in which we succumb to our lust- and whether or not we allow self-gratification to be perverted into self-destruction.


-COLORS mag.

If Mondays weren't Blue then Fridays would bear good news.
A declaration of things to come. A short distance between yearning and seizing. A proof that distance does indeed make the heart grow fonder.
You could celebrate your Friday in anticipation of Monday. Go to TGIF even.

The pointless Sunday brunch would take a backseat because The Power Lunch would be the fashion again. Overrated weekend getaways would die just like the alarm bell that's put to an abrupt end every morning. Weekend- just a ritual between a man and his work. The assassin of much needed Power nap and the obstruction between the beautiful collision of coffee breaks and brewing ideas.

Finally, Monday marking the beginning of the week would attain a whole new meaning. And so would the colour blue. When you'd have prime time news and pleasant voice messages to come home to. When you'd get a good night sleep. Over ideas.
Headlines, appointments, latté.They’re all at their freshest best. On Monday. A day like none other.
There’s a reason it’s the first day of the week.
Hail Monday.