the thought blender

THINKING ABOUT THINKING I drift into an unknown imagining, Speak to myself, I do. After sunset, when the veins flush with blood, My eyes finally find sight. I think about thinking and decide I am gifted. I ponder over life, I conclude on its mockable pose, how it fools even brainier mortals. I want to know the feeling of feeling, a feeling that escapes our soul before we could record it, cherish it. I wish to scream at the unblinking stars, but I remember the gag. The night, with his kindly gaze looks down upon my kind, who think when the common mind is meant to sleep. I laugh. I feel flattered. I feel an envenomed buzz of a stone in my stomach.  Every note from that masterly pianist astounds and I am in awe. I wish I could climb as high as it. I circle around pointless innuendos and find myself worse off. Where does this end? Death. Then I don't want it to end. Life is drama? Perfunctory? Repetitive?! That's funny. Every blink I record a blip of life. Gone. Slipped away from m

Coronavirus is not the only pandemic of whose traces our future generations will be dealing with, but it will be accursed with the pandemic of fake news too, which by then would have intensified into an evil force capable of haunting consequences. Some would argue that it already has. This is also a viral infection, where the active caseload has, ever since its inception, witnessed an unyielding uptick, where recoveries are barely a handful and deaths are only climbing, day by day. In this time of new gadgets, bulldozing into an already overflowing market, the aspects to our lives are not just increasing, they are exponentially doing so. Before the dawn of social media and the mindless obsession over likes, tweets, and posts, that serve to be these newly added aspects, life was much simpler to live. People had simpler motives. Even evil was not difficult to comprehend.  The digital age comes with a compelling entrée of heavy artillery and weaponry along with all tools needed to defend

Snape lived like a prisoner, sentenced without grounds, being humiliated on a daily basis not just in Hogwarts but also, going back home to be subjected to a unique set of abuse and violation that would come to have serious psychological repercussions. The net result of this abuse from all aspects undoubtedly left a tear in his mental fabric, a tear that highlights Snape's fallen standards for acceptance and fulfillment. This was an unplumbed depth of rock bottom for Snape and his self-control was walking on a tightrope, each day. There was no solace, no peace or purpose and he gradually grew a thick-skin and turned indifferent to emotion. It's not like there was much other than misery and desperation to feel, anyway. After a while, being immune to feeling became his comfort zone.  The Fandom rarely delves into these moments in Snape's life because it is a herculean task to empathize with him, but a cathartic experience, nonetheless. We readily pass our judgments on Snape w