Book love?

Words bounce from the pages and filter into my mind like images in motion, 

and everything around me suddenly stops.
I am in a place I don’t even know existed, but it’s beautiful.

There is wind without wind. There are mighty dragons around me. I’m walking through the mental turmoil with Frankenstein, or I am running with Elizabeth Bennet to Netherfield. The flight in ‘The Book Thief’ is one that I took and Max is my angel too. I’m the tension in Lés miserablés and the Child in Blake’s Songs.

I have also been Lochinvar, and abducted a bride.

I also am listening to the nightingale and wondering if this is a dream or am I asleep?

I was the kite and the mud and the journey in “Kite runner” and when Hassan died, I died too.
I’m fighting the case in “How to kill a mockingbird” while I sneak into my neighbours house too. 

I run away like Margo and I find myself a miracle like Landon. I also am Iago, plotting a plan that will unfold like a perfectly folded paper, when left loose.

I’m also the message in a bottle found. I’m the letters in “Colour Purple” and I’m punished like Shylock. 

I’m Frodo and I’m on a quest while I also am Thorin waiting to take back my home.

I live in the shire like Bilbo does, a complete Misanthrope, and I relish and savour the world as differently as Gus. 

All this, I am, when I’m right here. In one spot, in one corner of the world, like a spec of dusk floating somewhere, yet paralysed.

All this, I am, when I’m reading.

When the world embrace me and take me into another dimension where reality is just the past or somewhere else entirely. Obscure, I know, yet 

I am all this when I’m static in one corner, huddled up with a book and a cup of hot coffee

and people ask me “Why do you read so much?” -Marlyn Pereira


Mendacity and Vulnerability. 

“The sun hid behind the clouds. It was a black and white kind of colourful day. My feet sweaty from nervousness and fright, and my palms, waiting to hold a freshly brewed cup of caffeine, waiting to kiss my escape, and play tongue with the taste of it.
There was no wind that day, but there was essence. The essence of heavy silence. The precedent of uncomfortable loose thoughts like threads from a torn cloth. An essence that always lingered like a question unanswered. 
My mind spoke to me, or did it?


The peculiarity of normal things is that no one talks about it and because no one talks about it, it’s normal.

Vulnerability, however, is pretty normal, yet not spoken about.

Considered a weakness, vulnerability is looked at with shadowed eyes of plastered strength. 

There is a demand to be stone. 

There is a demand to be concrete. 
“It is beautiful to be vulnerable” somebody once told me and I wondered,

if it would be beautiful for me to panic, with a terrible heart ache like when a spear is stuck inside it, and I can’t pull it out, 

if it would be beautiful to break down in the middle of the night while everyone around is dancing to music and your ravenous mind is waiting to devour you whole.

I wondered if it would be beautiful to tell someone that I’m insecure about my appearances, I know I shouldn’t be, I know I show I’m confident but I am.

I wondered if it would be beautiful if I woke up screaming from a nightmare almost every night because someone taught me to be afraid of the dark when I could barely understand what this world was about. 
I wondered if at all vulnerability was beautiful, and I realised it was. It was beautiful because it was like looking at somebody’s naked soul, nothing to hide, 

but the world does not the naked soul beautiful.

The world is in love with a thousand levels of mendacity, and here we are, 

hating the truth 

hating the fact that we as humans are, after all, vulnerable 
because, come on, 

aren’t we too?”

Pine cones.

I have always known that the universe has its own buoyant way of teaching us how to live, 

leaving twisted answers on the journey of life for us to unwreathe.

The beauty of looking beyond sight is a rare luxury.

Not everyone is granted the privilege to comprehend that we are here to simply find meaning.

The universe in itself is a metaphor, but it is not always about the extraordinary.

More often than not, we just have to look closely at the mediocre things.

My eyes, eager to find knowledge, answers, valour and so many different illustrations, found a thousand answers in a thousand unanticipated different things, but the one that made my heart skip, and nestled in my soul forever was the answer I got from a pine cone.

The mundane realisation etched into my mind that, like a pine cone, 

we are in parts and pieces, that we are yet to be acquainted to.

We are still in the process of knowing who we are.

-WANDERER || Marlyn Pereira 


Hope dangles from these bars.

Rage smoulders and smothers as it persists.

Despair has rendered us to become animals, with no conscience. 

How could the darkness, so grim, take over the brightness that easily? I’ll tell you..

We are the ones who gave in. 

We did succumb, in a heartbeat

because we find it easier to lay in the ground than soar through the skies. 

Piercing your own heart with the sword you were only meant to fight with, was easier. 

Tearing the wind that brew storms for you was not an option because you chose 

you chose to be chained 

and remain on the surface.

And now you lust the skies

the one’s that you didn’t dare to thole or fight for. -WANDERER

Women’s Day

They sculpt me with dirty hands 

and censure me for being tainted.

My dreams are aesthetical

and too colossal to not smother

subjected to their hypocrisy

and egoistic allegations.
They worship my naked curves, 

satisfy their precarious manhood,

trace my skin as if it were theirs to trace

with consent or without, does it matter ?

and after they’re dirty work is done

they adorn me with clothing

and make a stone out of me,

throw gold and silver on my corrupted body 

place me in the corner of a dark room

call me goddess, putting me on a fraudulent pedestal.

But when I become a deity unto myself

my shimmer blinds their ravenous eyes

and they can’t handle the glory I earn, 
I’m convicted for non alignment 

to their rigid code of conduct, 

I squander my time, if I live up to my dreams.

but do I really have to explain

that I’m in love with unsteadiness

and that I love to dance in the rain

of tomorrow’s proud ‘mistakes’
They reprimand my doings, 
make me make my locks grow,

so that they can pull me back by them

and teach me how to be docile and gentle, 

but I have a sharp edged heart

and I cut this black cascade 

reclaiming the freedom

that threatens their pride,

they hold so sacred.
They give me a love of iron

that embellishes my ankles 

with shackles and fetters 

and they claim me 

like an object that pleases 

their inflated ego.
But blinded in their own malice 

drowning their own vices, 

that traps them underneath

they never could see the sky

They never comprehend 

that all that they were trying to confine

was just not tangible to begin with.
I am just the wind

and I hold no weight 

of their injustice over me 

therefore I will soar 

One day, I will look into my reflection, 

into these exhausted eyes

and I decide once and for all

that I belong where I belong

and it’s not for me to incline 

under the weight of your pride

but in the sky, where home lies.

I will return, once I find myself 

and if I can be the whiff

I’ll remind them

that I can be the storm too.


Marlyn Pereira


It’s going to last 31536000 seconds into an eternity. Time is just a measurement to satisfy our need to remain outside oblivion, 

so we measure, to our heart’s content, we measure all that we can and draw estimates of how long will forever be.

We’re all afraid of the unknown, the unfamiliar, the uncertainty. 

We want to know, or at least predict that we may know.

We don’t want to be floating in the universe of oblivion having no gravity to be steady,

but with you I’d like oblivion 

as long as all I know is you, and us.

-WANDERER // A y e a r a n d m o r e

Friends with benefits.

Today we would like to speak on a topic, that is defined as ‘cool’.

A topic on which a very few have a different yet a strong perspective.

“No strings attached.” “Friends with benefits.”

Terms we are very familiar with and who wouldn’t desire somethings that is free of what we could collectively say “a headache” 

However, I was only recently made to think differently, to see that the concept of friends with benefits is less cool and trendy, but more of a cowardly approach

It makes the people in such relationships, look feeble

It simply explains that they aren’t ready to face the struggles and responsibilities that come with a commitment.

Maybe their reasons differ, Maybe it not always fun. Maybe there is distrust in the mind, or an unbearable pain they have walked past, and don’t want to face all over again

But do these reasons justify this act?

The thing is, regardless of the reasons, we are simply too afraid of commitment because effort is too much to take upon ourselves. Effort to work on us and others. It must feel like weight of the world to hold one hand throughout life’s journey, isn’t it?

We tag a relationship as tedious or boring because we’re either afraid of it or we are simply fooled by the transitory pleasures we find in decaying bodies, curves and skins. 

We would rather worship a body althrough the night, rather idolise something that is going to fade away by the next morning, something that is tangible, than believe in something that is simply, in something that is purely felt and is not confined and constructed to the skin. We patronise love and demean it’s true valour because we like the boundary of the skin.We don’t want anyone to get underneath because we are so afraid of what they could find or because we have never really experienced it or we are too much of a coward in the core to even try.

-WANDERER and @Randomwriter 

(A collaboration with my favourite writer)