It is a windy day here in Hyderabad.
There is something romantic about that, the wind, the opposition, your tenacity at dealing with it. An unseen force which wants not you to reach your destination.
And behold! before you know it, you will have done it. A metaphorical victory of sorts.
I am reminded of death.
Her ugly face hides a pure heart. Maybe, just maybe, the disappointment is all you'll get. And you are told to let it go. It was never meant to last. Reluctantly you let it go, let it fade away; ash to ash, nothingness to nothingness, but not before shedding one final tear, and in it, are captured, the emotions of a lifetime.
The rest of the world moves on
Nay, they sprint, in the manner of one who is late for business of the highest order, while you amble along. You wish to stop and wonder who you are, but you have no time. you've got to be, where you will have to be. Life was always meant to be cruel, we on the other hand have made it inauthentic.
While I am still here.
Listening to La Reveil-matin - Couperin