Store Alert: Eye Candy

The thing about stationery is... you get greedy. It's never enough, is it? I am a compulsive hoarder, I confess. I can never have enough of those classic moleskines, those mulit-hued post-its or those gorgeous fountain pens. Le sigh. So, if you are a hoarder like me {I like to use the phrase: a collector of good things}, you must stop here. 

Or, you could just continue reading. 

The other day, I came across an online store, dedicated in all its entirety, to bespoke diaries. I spent {I kid you not} a good 20 minutes surveying the goods. I'm a bit bothered about the name though: the store is called Eye Candy. But I suppose for folks like me who get weak in their knees at the sight of stationery, the products are quite... well, eye candy-esque. The rich, ivory leather journal presented in a neat bow took my heart away {I can almost hear myself saying, "My precioussss..."}

Next up on the Eye Candy shelf is a special family of distressed leather diaries [very classy, I may add} which come with an elegant orange band and a charming brass trinket. What I particularly like about these stationery gems is that their design is subtle; nothing is too over-the-top. These are the perfect companions for a travel-junkie like me. 

While the vintage, hand-crafted journals are absolute stunners, there are also paper-notebooks which carry quirky quotes {When Life Gives You Hands, Make Handmade or It's Time Again for Another Saturday in the Office} written in playful type and graphics. 

There is a bit for everybody, I believe. There are journals in classic black or beige for those important {read: serious} meetings, as well as those easily-fit-in-my-pocket notebooks for Saturday afternoon scribbles while you wait for a friend at a cafe. These are definite keepers.

Here's the way to the candy store or follow them on tumblr. 

{design, stationery, diaries, notemaking, store, Eye Candy, journals, classic, writing}

Forgotten

An image of a forgotten reflection which earlier sparkled through my kohl-lined dark eyes. The girl who would swing her arms merrily; who wouldn't think twice before wolfing down road-side bhel puris or even gol-gappas for that matter. Who would sit in any cafe and just smile to herself at the very thought of a latte or a cappuccino; who would dream of plays and consider them to be better than life, or the one who loved to sing, even though she knew she wasn't good at it, but still hit the wrong notes because she didn't give a damn. 

The girl who walked the roads nonchalantly in her chappals with her emerald green jhola placed daringly on her shoulder; who smirked sheepishly every time the wind whispered in her hair--Me, a girl who just didn't give a damn...is now lost.

Uninvited

After months you visit me again. You had disappeared, I thought. I had torn our memories and flung them in a corner, where they could no longer break me. Alas, you arise like a ghost...I see you walking in my arms across the street, as I wait at a signal in my car. I see you sprawled on my bed, when I reach home. I see you in the face of every stranger who walks by. I see you sitting at our favourite table in a café we frequented.

***

Love is a glamorous affair. How we love to prick our heart and drown in self-designed misery. How we foolishly relish every moment built by time, reliving certain situations over and over again. We become broken records. Un-repairable. Un-amendable. And we continue to play ourselves out, even though the tune may not be right anymore. We become an album of imperfect, cacophonous images, faded by time.

{heartaches, longing, love stories, memory, remembering, thoughts}