Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

Man is not as clever as he makes himself to be.
Why has he not come up with a potion (too much Harry Potter reading evident here) to clean the mind of the myriad thoughts that co-exist at any particular point in time?
If not this, then, a sweep of the wand, a cry "Mindoblankus!!" and voilà, for the next few days, the gray recesses shall sway with the calm that encompasses them, just like the seaweeds that gently move with the currents underneath.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I want to pretend they meet further on, it wouldn't make a difference which one I took then, would it?

Current Music: November Rain (I am too addicted to this one)