Wednesday, April 6, 2011


Do you believe that your life can be interpreted through the lines that form on your palm? That every mark that your skin makes at the edge of your hand when you bring your fingers to base of your palm holds some significance? That every crease that can be seen, felt, where your fingers break are actually indecipherable hieroglyphics?

I claim that I don’t.

And yet, I look for your name somewhere in all those lines, marks and creases.

I look for pre-destined bonds; for some divine prophesy; for an encrypted message that ties our fates together.

I look for signs that connect me to you.

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