Each of us has our own version of love..
And every version is virtual..might be a shadow..
Perhaps what God loves us is true love..
And all other are its virtual copies..
Like the distributed shared memory..where no data actually exists on machines...
Whatever we see, feel, know is virtual..but very true at that moment...

Who knows!!!

I guess only Paulo Coelho had his Zahir. 
Is this because The Zahir has to have a happy, full-filling end??
What if Esthar would have left the village when she came to know that he is coming there...?
What if she had said that she still loves Dos and wants to live with him...?
What if the narrator had to leave empty-handed with his heart full of pain flowing through his eyes....??

Who knows!!

Sitting in lecture and getting bored..
And suddenly a cool breeze touches my cheeks and I feel refreshed...
I see through the glass window beside me...
Its not too hot or too cold..
Birds are chirping on the banyan tree
Purple mountains are shining with golden sun rays..
A bunch of small, white houses with brick-red roofs..surrounded by lush green trees..
Roads are quiet and the weather is lovely..

Such a scenic and pleasant view..
I wish I could be a painter who would create the same magic with strokes of brush..for a picture is worth a thousand words..
But I am not..so I tried to capture that serenity in words... :)