Overcaffeinated Random Thoughts: Part 2.00

Rushing the street back to my room, with whole wheat bread in my hand and a pack of chocolate milk. Plus a joy of thought of being full, and some heavy rains of words.

Well I feel it sometimes. When words are like tornado around I can’t even catch a butterfly. Like wisdom of:

“Fashion doesn’t make you less intellectual. It only makes you less cynical about this bullshitism of capitalism.”

Well, I don’t know where they come from. Just like I see them on the red brick wall, on the dark path, on the broken street, on the empty region because most of its temporary citizens are back home.

I’m facing the second cup/mug/glass of coffee and I can’t resist the temptation of another slice of bread. I ate it with my left hand and feel like an asshole.

I wonder if that I’m that abnormal that people quietly wonder if I’m that abnormal. Well, maybe yes. Maybe I have different angle of life viewing or heartbreaking, but I still love carousel. I still love the sky. And I still love the guy who has wit, charm of dorks, and some photography madness.

Well, am I and indigo child?
No. I know that I’m white. Mother-tongued-ly without H. And in English, it’s without both H and E.