Type ?

How we are connected is a different story all together. Sometimes, amidst of the noise around me, I am reminded of your laughter. The cheesy grin that runs through your face and covers a huge part of your facial geography. I like to imagine you this way: smiling. I pick up a means of technology and start punching my fingers, writing what could, perhaps, sound perfect. Perfect enough to match your smile. I fail a lot of times in my attempts to make you smile. Sometimes the conversation is interrupted by people who are nowhere involved in it. At times it is interrupted by the network that connects us and at times by our dilemma to make the first move. Sometimes, in between these interruptions , I predict what you are likely to say. And I smile when you later say the same.

Is it the technology that really connects ? Or are we connected beyond it's scope ? 

The story of an introvert

The story of an introvert has to be a little secretive. For the introvert does not accept so easily that he is one of a kind. Today , I met an introvert. Eyes constantly searching for topics that could hide this nature of his , concentrating on details and asking silly questions. He and his kind are filled with an intense void of knowing no one, not even self. The are plain uncomfortable among a lot of people. Their voice level , a little above low , makes you wonder if they will ever speak to you in the usual frank way. They sometimes make you insecure for letting people know indiscriminately about yourself all this while . They , instead , can decide to whom and what to reveal. Quite a power that is. The introvert by your side is playful with eyes , calm in movements and diplomatic in choices. For he never wishes to be reveal.

Another esoteric phenomenon? Perhaps , yes!