Dear You,
There is a beautiful breeze wafting through the window like a long lost friend that does not need permission to barge in with a broad smile. It is calming me down and letting me hear the whiny roars of a rickshaw and somebody humming a ridiculous tune near the water tank. The feel of braided hair lazily twirling to the sounds of the wind makes me smile. And forget for a while. That there are things that have to be done and soon. I do not like confinement. Not one bit. I'd rather run free, through daffodil fields in the rain and let me be washed away. Because I love rain because it does not question. It is mine and I am her's, and she washes it away and does not ask why or if or what. She just washes it away.
And I pulled open a drawer and the sight of untidily piled up letters made me smile. So I stood there and read and I read them all until I was sure that they belonged to a different time, that they were permanent paper-stamps of moments of miscellany, but they are Mine as ever. A victory, it feels. Because time is always in a hurry to take Moments away from me, and here I have proof that I have lived them. But you and I, we can never defeat Time. It can whisk away people and places and it can, quite easily, whisk away their traces too. But that's alright. Because that is what hearts and minds and love is for. To hold on to things that cannot materialize and to keep in view everything that is out of reach.
It is strange. It is very strange. To think of sounds you know by heart, of a familiar laugh or a string of familiar words that you have not heard in quite a while. It is strange to almost hear them. To almost see them. Almost-feelings. But then they slip away with a quite cackle. And even though it makes you feel quite helpless, it does not make you sad anymore. A half whimper, a half laugh. And you let it be. I let it be. And I walk past these thoughts like I am being sent away. But not with resentment. Rather with a wise word and a telling look that urges me to keep walking and know, that if I ever need a shade from the heat of the Now, I could always find it in those almost-feelings. Maybe that is why it doesn't make me sad anymore. Because they are only almost-feelings. Those almost-feelings that someone else would call a memory.
I think I will go inspect the kitchen for a bit, then step outside with whatever supply of food I can find. It's been a nice, quite day and for peace and what it is brought by and what it brings with it, I am infinitely grateful, I am infinitely blessed.
Thank You for listening.
Love,
Me.
There is a beautiful breeze wafting through the window like a long lost friend that does not need permission to barge in with a broad smile. It is calming me down and letting me hear the whiny roars of a rickshaw and somebody humming a ridiculous tune near the water tank. The feel of braided hair lazily twirling to the sounds of the wind makes me smile. And forget for a while. That there are things that have to be done and soon. I do not like confinement. Not one bit. I'd rather run free, through daffodil fields in the rain and let me be washed away. Because I love rain because it does not question. It is mine and I am her's, and she washes it away and does not ask why or if or what. She just washes it away.
And I pulled open a drawer and the sight of untidily piled up letters made me smile. So I stood there and read and I read them all until I was sure that they belonged to a different time, that they were permanent paper-stamps of moments of miscellany, but they are Mine as ever. A victory, it feels. Because time is always in a hurry to take Moments away from me, and here I have proof that I have lived them. But you and I, we can never defeat Time. It can whisk away people and places and it can, quite easily, whisk away their traces too. But that's alright. Because that is what hearts and minds and love is for. To hold on to things that cannot materialize and to keep in view everything that is out of reach.
It is strange. It is very strange. To think of sounds you know by heart, of a familiar laugh or a string of familiar words that you have not heard in quite a while. It is strange to almost hear them. To almost see them. Almost-feelings. But then they slip away with a quite cackle. And even though it makes you feel quite helpless, it does not make you sad anymore. A half whimper, a half laugh. And you let it be. I let it be. And I walk past these thoughts like I am being sent away. But not with resentment. Rather with a wise word and a telling look that urges me to keep walking and know, that if I ever need a shade from the heat of the Now, I could always find it in those almost-feelings. Maybe that is why it doesn't make me sad anymore. Because they are only almost-feelings. Those almost-feelings that someone else would call a memory.
I think I will go inspect the kitchen for a bit, then step outside with whatever supply of food I can find. It's been a nice, quite day and for peace and what it is brought by and what it brings with it, I am infinitely grateful, I am infinitely blessed.
Thank You for listening.
Love,
Me.
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