so it goes ... life dancing around in drunken circles. cyclic. vi. and all other kinds. 'life goes easy on me, most of the times'. like seasons, the same times and moods, come and go and come back again. like a merry go round. happy-angry-sad-euphoric: its always good for the ride. have to say it though, its one hell of a ride. i wouldnt change anything or moment, but one, could i go back in time.
its still the first flush of the monsoons. i havent seen my city, my country, my house, in the wet, for so long now. Being here, after so long, still feels special. and delicate.
the mornings, alone and naked. walking the streets so empty that you feel that you possess them, you feel your 'self' more than any other time ever.
the afternoons, when you step out at lunch time. the sun glistens on skin of of the lake, polishing it to brilliant silver. the birds swoop and trees sway. everyone wears the guiltfree happy ease, of a labourer on a break. the chatter, a hum in the background. the eagles circling overhead. the lake smiling still. the winds, the playful entertainer. the stray kingfisher. the herons, the ducks, and the sparrows. so many colours, and strokes, that make the days.
and the evenings. coffee break. watching the orange lace dance and sway; as if to music from another room.
i loved that movie. one of the 3 movies out of all the ones i picked of netflix blindly just because it had Cusack, that i also ended up loving, independently. that, the journey of Natty Gann & Class ... with all its ghosts and skeletons.
speaking of movies, in a strange connection, from time to time i remember the look on His face in "Thou shalt not commit adultery" comes to my mind. No link to the theme ... just the expression on His face.
and then later in the evening, home. bushed. tired. clean. every island in its place. the catharisis of the long drive home. the irony of the scenery. the soothing emptiness of the solitude and the silence. and then the burst of company and family, once you are rested and have shed ur workday skin and showered off the mood u were in.
and the nights. long and moonlit. endless conversations, on the terrace. balanced precariously on the edge, of a table or a railing. or a theory you'd held. bringing out and airing everything. from politics. and childhood. to jobs. and shaving. its good to have a shadow, an echo, alter ego's, to keep you rooted in.
it was so strange meeting you again. fleeting. gossamer. this time, i took care not to hug to tight. in the semi darkness, i watched numb-eyed, as the apologies floated. and carried us into another tequila sunrise ... 'do you remember me? how we used to be? dont you think, we should be closer?'
to quote myself, love and all that i can gaurd well against. it never gets that far in anyway. its this bldy friendship thing that maims. so long again, best friend.
was looking through sorting all the verse i had ever written and thought what a hopeless mess. need to sit down and sort everything i have ever done. complete some. discard some. fix some. enhance some. but where's the time. life is such a race.
Originally Posted at Prerona.