By the Pain I see in Others

  • To not be able to understand the cause of someone’s pain.
  • To be blinded by your own miseries. 
  • To not care about what someone else is going through. 
  • To not be able to provide caring words.
  • To run away because you have weight on your shoulders. 
  • To be concerned about someone you don’t know and will not see again. 

The tree with no roots

  • To be living off a backpack in a place that should be called home.
  • To not have the materials needed to work on a hobby.
  • To not be able to see family while being so close to them.
  • To make plans only to have them marred by misfortune.
  • To try and look at the future, only to see bleakness.
  • To wait for a storm to blow you away to a place far away. Where there may be a chance for roots to hold on tight.
  • To hold on tight to that hope that the wait would be worth it.

So positively negative

The optimist has been replaced by a pessimist. For someone who always expected the best, he always expects the worst and hopes for something which is just a notch above the worst. He’s the opposite of Midas. What he touches turns to misfortune. Every time he feels he has things under control, he’s swept off his feet and all effort goes into barely standing steady. All gains lost.  The inevitable restart from scratch and the frustration of not being at the level where he had to drift from the path. There are no heroes in his story. No perfect endings. No constant peace of mind. Just the interludes between one misery and the next. And the path to inevitable burnout.

So late, it was early

Woke up at 9:30 am, realized it was late to prepare breakfast, shower, eat and head out the door. Agenda for the day. A test at the university, an appointment with someone at work, a flight to some place. Step out the door, feet don’t hit the ground. Woke up in a pool of sweat. Time is 5:40 am. There was nothing to be done today.

Name of the Wind : Review

A pub/inn, a setting where many stories get told. A setting for new friendships are made, old friends to share stories of their lives, travellers to rest before continuing to script their life stories. An innkeeper named Kote. A red haired man who was part of stories, legends. The one who is wise and keeps his past hidden under this masquerade. A loyal servant who knows the past. A traveller/story teller who happens to know some of the stories and wants to get the complete version. The setting for this magnificent tale of the most famous son of the Edema Ruh is perfect.
The myth of the Chandrian, the seven. The foundation years under an arcanist and his parents. The stories told through music and performance of the troupe. The art of Sympathy, magic of the world, which relies on relationships between materials is one of the best scientifically explained magic that I’ve read. The myth of the Chandrian, the struggles of Kvothe to reach The University after his parents’ death all contribute fairly to develop the character brilliantly. The story telling during his first term at the University is fantastic and provide a backdrop for some of the best moments of the tale to happen during the siege of Trebon by the Draccus and its conquering by the E’lir Kvothe and his eventual return to become Re’lar, the speaker of names.
The ending of the story, back in the Inn with the Chronicler settling down at the end of the day was bone chilling in a good way. The revelation by Bast about his intentions makes the reader yearn for more in the next two books of the trilogy.
I should specifically call out Denna, the girl Kvothe desires, but keeps slipping away. She is a metaphor for what you pursue so much and yet slips away from you, while still giving you hope to catch it eventually.
This is the second time I read the book and picked up a lot more nuances of each character. This is a must read for most fantasy lovers.