"Whenever you feel like the crackly white walls and the crazy weird trees by the side of the road have gained a feasible personage and that they are prying at you with their cranky wonky eyes, that is the time you should realize that your life, for long, was a mere hallucination - where the plot had lost its priority, to a surreal hope of an alien presence, and now that it is gone, you are back in the real world where loss is the truth and gain is a myth."
She was unassailable to local lovers. He was no local lover, not even a lover for that matter. A loser may be- nothing lost and nothing to be lost. Ha! That might be an understatement- a misleading understatement- one that might sound convincing enough, for you to stack your cards against the loser. As an act of mercy or say, common courtesy, let’s call it ‘him’. He welcomes us to a world of lost love.
The two of them were friends. If two people talk to each other, they are by default and by general definition, friends. The two friends talked about the leaves and the twigs, the fresh sprouts, yellow flowers and the fruits, and at times about the wind. The dew, the sky and the crimson sunshine was left untouched to everyone’s surprise. Time was poignant, swift and slow. Lusty seasons blew past them once each time, poking the cobweb of informal dormancy with splendid sparks at times...
Moths and beetles grew old and died but hopes will live forever. With smiley faces and profound tweets, it’s time to say goodbye. The wind blew at once, for one last time, this time hard, with all its might. Fellow wing-mates took off to be back, to buy some time from timeless stands. It’s true in fact that excess is bad- it masks the self with a condensed self. The breeze set in, disguised as hale, hysteric leaves shivered and swayed, rusty foliage rose with dust and clogged the silence with obscure frost. But once again they talked of nothing but the leaves and sprouts and fruits.
