Question Your Existence


What is time, does it exist?

What is your purpose?

How do you really feel?

Why are people so consumed in relationships?

Does the animal side rule you?

Is this life real?

Why are people so angry?

What’s the point of money?

What’s the point of you?

Where are going?

Where have you come from?

Is this reality?

Question your existence.

Question the coffee in front of you, the bustling streets the stretch beyond. The setting sun and the rising moon, the stars that blanket the dark ink sky. The sparkling city lights, the lonely night. 



Liebster Blog Award


Thank you so much Fictional Machines for giving me my first wordpress writers award! It is really appreciated and a lovely thing to receive on the last day of 2012.

The Rules:

1] Link back to the person who nominated you.  Fictional Machines

2] Post the award


3] Nominate five blogs

The nominees (In no particular order)

4] Answer these questions

1) What is your favorite word in the English language?


2) What are you listening to as you write the answer to this question?

Birds singing to the setting sun and “It’s hard to say goodbye” by Michael Ortega 

3) What is the last thing you ate that you really, really enjoyed?

I had Mango with sticky rice and coconut milk for dessert tonight

4) You’re at a job interview, and the interviewer asks you to make him laugh. What do you do or say?

Walk out, I don’t want that job anymore

5) The world is about to blow up, but you’re being saved, and are allowed to take five things to another planet (Aside from the clothes that you are currently wearing) where you and only 999 other people will now exist (Ignore the bleakness of this question). What do you take?

I would take a notebook, a pen, a telescope, and my two chihuahua cross papillons 

6) What’s your favorite drink to consume first thing in the morning?

an iced latte every morning without fail 

7) What was the last book that made you cry?

Books don’t make me immediatley cry, they eat away at me slowly

8) What’s the most ridiculous or silliest way you’ve been injured?

Walking into a wall with a fork in my mouth and chipping a tooth at the back… 

9) What’s your favorite city in the world? Why?

It’s a really tough tie between Edinburgh and Abu Dhabi, they are both so uniquely different. Today I shall go with Abu Dhabi,the city sparkles like diamonds and it really appears like a mirage from the desert. 

10) What’s the most embarrassing album in your music collection (Be honest)?

— I wouldn’t say its embarrassing to me, though i’m sure others would find it a little embarrassing.. I love Disney music, particularly Pocahontas. Maybe what makes it embarrassing is I know all the words and sing “Colours of the wind” to my dogs. 

11) To borrow an old line from a Crowded House song, would you rather a mansion in the slums or a caravan in the hills (i.e. a nice house in a not nice area, or a tiny living space but with views)?

– A caravan in the hills, no competition between the two in my mind!


What is reality?

“Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.” ― Albert Einstein

Pink clouds stretch across a deep orange sky as the sun set, in that moment all simply is. Trees gently sway in the whispering breeze, crickets welcome the oncoming night. I look to the skies above and sigh. 

What is reality? 

Since I can remember I have felt this strange sensation; am I really awake? What if I was simply in a deep sleep and woke realising this, my whole life was a dream. What if time, was an illusion and your life as you perceive it was a carefully constructed and intricate lie?

It can be difficult to speak about such things in words, as the truth just is, it is speechless, its felt rather than heard and known rather than learnt. Yet something that can be said as well as felt; our perception of time is speeding up, people are ‘awakening’, asking questions and allowing their essence to be heard. More and more people are tuning in to their conciousness, to their vibration, or whatever else you know it as.

Yet many people are like ants, carrying out functions unknown to them in a daze of reality and a haze of city fumes, their essence in a deep slumber, their own mind blinding them. 

Now stars cover the dark ink sky like a mosaic, cicadas sing in the humid air and bats screech. Another night will pass, escaping our grasp.