We're artists, you & I. We paint our live in smiles; with smiles. In words; with words. In rhythm; with rhythm.
Do you want to know a secret? I've been feeling down in the dumps lately. And then someone or something strolls into a bad day and helps me up. And then I fall into the dumps all over again.
I always wonder about the stranger on the street. I wonder what the kid sitting in the front seat of the car will grow up to be. I wonder about the home of the man on the motorcycle. Or the girl in the rickshaw pointing out directions to the driver. Maybe I've wondered about you, too.
My goats have been quiet today. I've always noticed how they're extra loud the night before the sacrifice begins, like they already know their fate. It's not such a bad fate, I think. I'm sure they'll get much more chaara where they're going, anyway.
Aren't we all stuck in time? Stuck in time, stuck with time. Not moving forward, nor backward, just stuck in the present. In the now. But, how strange it is, to be stuck in the present all this while and look back to see there are whole decades you've left behind. How strange it is, to be stuck in the present, always - and still have decades to look forward to & live for. How strange it is to be stuck in the then, the now and the will be, all at the same time.
A thank you is in order. Thank you for painting a universe with your words, and thank you for painting on my universe (which, by the way, translates as my blog) as well.
My parents never forbade me to write a letter to a stranger.
Love,
Me.
No comments:
Post a Comment