I have been in love with the earth since my childhood when I would wish to wander the lengths of the country but I was too little to be allowed. I would wake and walk with the moon at nights and shared its journey in my thoughts. Moon-lit nights helped me cover long distances in the enchanting company of moon when clouds would play hide and seek with the moon and my support was with the moon simply because the moon was my companion. Anyway, love for the earth and the moon seem to be intertwined somewhere in my book of memoirs.
I wish most often to be born as a boy merely because of my craze for Geology. Holding a camera in my hand and a notebook in handbag would be my mates and I would search the continents to see and look the earth in all its forms and layers. My biggest constraint is that I am not a man and the world has been deprived of another Ibn-e-Batoota, the metaphor of journey.
Man is made of mud. The whole universe reflects in human body. Perhaps it is the attraction of chemistry that magnetizes me and I fall in love with the layers after layers. Earth has layers like human personality has. The crust on the surface, mantles within and cores in the deep caves of hearts, and mines of gold and platinum of love in the innermost of that core. Hell temperatures inside but cool and calm even snow on the crust . Tectonic plates inside move an inch away and earthquake erupts and seismic waves affect even far off areas of relations. The epicenter is somewhere else and the aftershocks are seen and felt far away. Fountains and lakes out of the hard rocks and desolate desert travels in the same man on parallel tracks.