Languages, medicines and magicians.

What has music been for you? Let me know in the comment section below! Enjoy reading. Instagram handle: @myspirals


“Music is a safe kind of high.” – Jimi Hendrix

Music is a language, a medicine and a magic trick. Dance to it.

  • Music was his mother-tongue. His tongue fumbled when he spoke English as if it were a foreign language that he hadn’t heard all his life, but when he was alone, he hummed a tune and did not miss a single note. He stuttered and shied away from conversations with strangers, but sang songs with a broad grin around camp fires. When he wasn’t feeling alright, he would shut out completely and listen to music as he thought and thought about what had gone wrong, but you could find small clues hidden in his playlist to make him feel alright.
  • Her soul had been crushed into absolute pieces and her heart had cuts all over. There was a constant ache, that seemed to run like blood in her veins and pillows couldn’t drown it out. But earplugs seemed to drive the pain away completely, or at least numb it. As the lyrics stopped her mind from wandering about, and the music brought her a much-needed gift, she could smile without wanting to scream. Music was her band-aid and no one could rip it off her scars. For her, music was like a steady dose of pain-killers and peace. Music was the only pillow that could drown out the screams, and it was the only shoulder she could cry on.
  • He was broke and broken, but managed to get into the bar right across the street. He needed to feel lost and alive, and so he stepped onto the dance-floor swarmed with broken hearts and night-outs. The music was loud enough to make him disappear as his feet moved about in an unsteady pace. The broken pieces of his heart rattled against each other, but no one could hear it. The pieces slammed against each other and broke into smaller pieces until all that was left was dust. He smiled as he took the dust and blew on it, as if it were fairy-dust and his wishes were going to come true.

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Travel bird.

Instagram handle: @myspirals


Go to places,
Find mountains that remind you of people,
And seas that make you forget everything.
Discover old streets that whisper stories,
and broken buildings that look like broken bones.
Sleep out the day, learn to love the dark.
Sleep out the night, learn to love the light.
Close your eyes and feel the wind,
and rustle like a tree under the burning sun.
Giggle under the stars,
and among the ruins,
Just like the people who lived there
A long time ago,
probably did.
Paint your passports,
and cut in your bucket list,
instead of your wrists.


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Whisky Words: Project (4)

This is Submission FOUR of The Whiskey Words. The Whiskey Words is a writing project (and a giveaway), and if you’d like to participate, here are the rules.


Feels like home

My day got overwhelming already,
As I thought about the most soulful place ever created
By mortal men and immortal gods.
It was not just a normal day
Because me and my wife had decided to fly home.
Catalunya was/is the most wanderlust place we could ever imagine,
and our wait was finally over
As we saw the faded lands of Catalunya
From a thousand feet above.
We could feel the Cataluniyan vibes already.
It was breathtaking,
The faded land became clearer and clearer.
Me and my wife both held each other’s hands and
We realised that this,
is the beginning phase of our very happy life.
We did not rush in the airport, at all.
Because every place of Catalunya
Was an overwhelming experience,
and the airport was no different.
We saw the whole airport like never before,
with sparkling eyes and
Curiosity.
What lay in the environment
could only be felt by us.
It just took a couple of hours to reach the main city.
We could see people communicating
in a different language,
a language of love and soulful freedom.
We had extremely mixed emotions throughout the wonderful journey.
Me and my wife finally knew
what “feels like home”

– Harsh Gehlot (Instagram)