Stephen Hawking by Rama Samkari
You wrap a genius in you. You, being a small creature in this inconceivable universe, still do not think small. You travel the cosmos and return with bewildering ideas. You open your mouth to speak those words. Nothing but a tiny puff of air passes through your wrinkled, helpless lips. You could use some spark in your eyes, to convey the magnificence of your sight. But life gave you impaired earthy instruments of vision. You could use some action on this beautiful planet. You could lie down on the field, run across the bridges, swim across lakes, but all you’ve got is a button. A button to move you on wheels. A button to decide your paths. A controlled machine to the rescue of a human’s freedom.
I hope death fulfilled your wish; you had in your life.
Liberation!
A guy walks through his green hostel door for one last time and doesn’t know whether to lock it or not!
Her father watches the leaving train from the platform; she doesn’t know whether to look back or not!
We are holding these little situations inside us. No, you don’t have to give up on them, but give in. Experience!
Once he decided to let go of his ego and hugged that guy, the surge of dopamine kept him smiling for the next forty-three minutes. I bet you need moments like these!
We all have these dark blues inside us. We try to hide them, but they keep bubbling to the surface. Let them come, ask what you want to be defined for, do you want to be the guy who runs away from himself and subdues his blues or the guy who handles it, who paints it all in vivid colors!
