(Note: Most of the posts on this blog are written with some music playing in the background. So to put you in the same mood (hopefully) I was in while writing a particular post, from now on, whenever possible, I’ll put up the music that either was playing in the background while the post was being written or directly influenced the post itself. It will be available at the top of every such post. Please click on the play button to start the song.)

Red Eye - The Album Leaf

It is a land without boundaries. I do not matter. Nor do you. Nor does our love. Everything is new, touched by something that cared. Not like there where everything lies in a state of decay. The wind speaks of sunshine and ocean currents. The streams sing songs of faraway hills and overhanging branches. There are bright blue flowers that smile at the sky.

People come and go, never to stay. They do not care for the unspoken words that a tree contains. They lack the patience to listen to a forest whisper ancient secrets. But how does that matter? The world exists for its own happiness. They take but do not give.

Some stranger ordered, get out of the chair and mark Sabbath. The land slopes away gently below me. There are rivers. There are meadows. There are hopes. To hope is to ignore the truth.

Another dawn without sleep in its wake. It is cold inside and outside. The grass died under the frost. The crackling of special paper strewn around the dustbin. Somebody taps on the window and writes a name on the condensed mist. Ah, the past placing a bookmark for the future. People to avoid. Exit is on the left to the wilderness for a spell of tears.

The lie of a life lived among hollow expectations. Music slowly seeping in through holes. We are of different kinds. Never to unite. Never to dance on the street with our heads held high. I will be lost for a while among sunbeams and bubbles. The rhythm of closing shutters beckons. There is a race on to see who speaks the least. Through the blinds I can see and hear everyone but I’m invisible. Scraps of electronic garbage float through space, providing unwanted services and lame advice.

What is outside is different to what is inside. You know that. Everyone knows that. The work is incomplete and people cast strange glances. A flip of the coin and everything changes. Lives rearranged, choices compromised and expectations revamped. The chance of a lifetime bursts into flames.

Confrontation was on the cards. But there are no words. No lessons to be learnt. Now, all I see is sleep drenched eyes staring at a universe that was never meant to be. An after thought of the idealist. An off shoot of the big plan. The fire escape for floor 13.

The pink oval ball bounces around. Photographs trace memories in cross processed color. Subtle yellow signboards and pale skin along the edges of the frame. Blank finger nails point to distance runners on the street. They are running for all that is about to be lost in our lives. The hope of return. The promise of closure. The end of a dream.