The Cranberries - Linger

I walked. Across the road. Past the Campina factory. Past the spaces in my head. The wind screamed at the clouds hunkered down, sullen and stubborn. It was a road going nowhere, endless red brick walls leading to steel towers and a monotonous block of white washed houses. The long leaves of an unknown shrub by the factory walls swayed and shuddered as the wind rushed past me. There was a little girl on the other side of the road shouting with joy and gesticulating at her mother. She had so much to share. Every step was a wonder waiting to be explored. Every second was a siren call of the unknown. Ah the innocence!

There was rain in the sky. There was water in my heart. There was an empty warehouse slowly receding on my right. Frames froze for a moment in my eyes but by the time my fingers reached for the camera they would vanish with the wind. Green railings ran together in slow motion under my sliding gaze. A balance of lines and a harmony of hope.

You tumbled through my thoughts and fell on the pavement. You looked back at me across the doorstep through the drizzle. Did I turn back to look at you one last time? I do not remember anymore. Memory can be so ironic. The very little details stay the longest but the essence and the meaning of moments you want to hold on to forever get lost the quickest in the hidden pathways of the mind. I no longer remember the color of the shirt you wore on that ill remembered day from the mists of our collective memory. Was it brown like your eyes? Or was it black? Or was it white like the light that shines in my dreams at dawn? But I remember one thing. I still remember the way your fingers crossed across each other like a priest praying for hope. In a sense it was about hope after all even if you or I were not aware of it.

I turned around. I had walked enough. There was nothing for me on that road. The rain laden clouds were still playing a guessing game with the wind. The green leaves still swayed. The little girl had vanished. Her cries, which had punctuated my thoughts were behind the four walls of one of those white houses. Had her mother finally understood what she wanted to say? Was she still smiling at the seconds ticking past her age?