Trapped in a tornado thinking the world is as calm as it seems without knowing that it's hell out there.

Physically drained. Mentally un-stimulated this season.
Think the fairies and elves' supply of magic dust is running low this time round.

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Flour going through a sieve. Flour. Going through a sieve.
The big stubborn ones which refused to go with the flow get left behind.
Flowing along. Going with.
Those that went through gets to be sieved finer still.
Forced to flow along. Made to fit in.
Somehow that seems pathetic.

Random thoughts..

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Tonight a picture i saw in a book kept flashing across my mind.
The caption for that picture was sth like:
Even though there are many people present in the same venue as us, there is always someone who seems to belong to his/her own world.
**translation

Fitting in. More like accommodating to the norm.. Adjust to the exterior yet retaining your unique properties.. Like water changing shapes but not its compositions..

random.