The past couple of days were moving at a slow pace. Not exactly the "mellow and contended" kind of slowness, but that of the "painfully stretched" kind. The lanes of imagination were "out of duty". Everything was viewed with a grey spectacle. The world seemed drab and was in need of an urgent coat of paint. Existential questions about my purpose in this world were hovering around my head, hitting nothing but my hard skull. Thinking equaled to blanking out. Brain activity seemed sterile. I was a pile of hopeless mass. Nothing would stimulate even an ounce of excitement in my nerves. I passed the hours, sitting with a futile hope of encountering that wandering gypsy, called "happiness". It seemed like it didn't really want to "hang out" with me. But it could just pop in for a while you know- for tea maybe?
I was in for a pleasant surprise when all of a sudden "happiness" did turn up for tea. And today, it adorned the cloak of a crisp paged magazine called "Frankie". It never fails to enclose within it, oodles of love! It's like a warm, familiar hug from an old friend. My very own thoughts, my very own dreams are housed within that little piece of joy! My eyes brighten up and an effortless smile stretches across my mouth as I sup up the words and pictures laid out before me.I love Frankie and I love the way my thoughts shape up after reading it. The new issue has already found itself a permanent place in my bag. A dear old companion is what it will always be! :)