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  • catrinity

A blog by catrinity

Blog description:

Writer of words, thinker of thoughts, hunter of happiness, pursuer of purpose, collector of experience... on a quest to live a meaningful life.

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paper days and empty cups

You discard the page of another month. It dribbles into the wide mouth of a dustbin. Time has been fickle. Little accomplished. You throw your empty cup in there too. Paper days and empty cups are for burning. Sometimes looking to the sky is no

your privacy is invading our public

Excuse me, can I have a little privacy please? No. Because you’re in p-u-b-l-i-c. That’s how the system works. As it turns out, there’s no privacy in public. In fact, your privacy is invading our public. Why don’t you go somewhere else so we can have a little public around

last impression of america

America smells like cinnamon.  Its flags fly from front verandas.  It smells like snow and hot chocolate on a sidewalk in the dark.  America smells expensive like Clinique’s Happy. Its Wednesday afternoons let the sun hang low in the sky. 

strange little band of characters

These words by Erma Bombeck come so close to describing the dynamics in my household that I have to share them: "The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another’s desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other

i’ve come to realise that…

beauty… is overrated I’ll never stop… silently loving those I once loved out loud laughter… can be powerful crying… shouldn’t be reserved for movies my bra-size… doesn’t matter my job… has potential when I’m driving… I need to relax I need… to embrace the desire and not the doubt I

word on the street

The word on the street is not a word. It’s a voice that moves through the traffic into the sidewalks, across car parks and into buildings. It’s the rhythm of collective direction along which the throng of us is swept, like water into moments. It exists because of shared thoughts

a moment of clarity

We think that being authentic is to be consistent. But it isn’t. Inconsistency is a sign of growth. Becoming disconcerted by it signifies the movement into awareness. Consistency is for cake mixture. It is not for human beings.

pushing up the daisies, not

If you thought that this blog was dead, you were wrong. Despite the length of time that has passed since my last post (which was a mere seven words), the number of blog subscribers has reached 150 (rather mysteriously) and things have been happening behind the scenes too (e.g.

seven words

Fear is inevitable where love is absent.

because it’s father’s day

An Ungiven Eulogy We collected years and seashells, watched gulls pushed backwards in the air by the strong Cape wind. If I looked across the water carefully, you said I would be able to see Australia. You found a conch for me, said it held a tiny ocean. Time sailed

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