It was a long day, today! And finally its nighttime, 11:23pm to be precise, 37 minutes before it’s officially over.
And the first day is the worst, right?
I have all the reason to believe that tomorrow will be a better day?
Am I living a deja vu? Are my years on a loop? Last year this time I had lost. It took me a year to gather my bits that are now floating in a vacuum. Oh I see them.
No matter what happens, I’ll never hate you Autumn. So what if you split things, you didn’t choose the Nature, you already carry too much pain. I forgive you. Until again, I’ll start collecting my bits all over again.
There are two expressions of love, she said. Either you lock the flower in seclusion, that way you get to worship its beauty and sink in its love everyday whole day, or you watch it grow away from you, in its roots, in its entirety. You bear the anxiety of separation and jubilance of union each day anew, and watch it grow petal by petal eventually fading into a vacant stem.
The problem is, my friend, most people are only familiar with the former.
The most jolly existence in this world is that of the wind. Maybe its attributable to its nomadic lifestyle. Always blowing, somewhat cocky, shaking everything on its way. Making its presence felt not by form but by impact.
Carrying with it the scents of earth, and roses and dirt.
Does it envy us? Does it dwell homes? Guess we’ll never know!
I envy you, dear winds!
Nature is empathetic.
When the trees have lost their leaves, when the nests have been emptied out, and their hearts reminisce, Nature calls upon chilly winds to console their cold aching hearts. The sky takes on a comforting warm hue as if condoling with the trees.
Then the little ones hatch in a cold world and accept the embrace of naked trees so they warm up their cores for a new cycle of life.
Thus they all heal each other through love and mutualism.
While love is a universal panacea, for a pluviophile, rain means the same.
It doesn’t matter how distressing the internal affairs are, catching a mere glimpse of dense grey clouds approaching the realm of sun, is enough to exhilarate us inside out. A forewarning in the form of currents of cold winds fill our hour with pure joy.
The transition from bright sunlight to gloomy grey is nothing short of art. Everybody hides, they take shelter, and those who feel show themselves as mad men dancing in the rain.
Our favourite morning chore is parting curtains to the affair of rain. Our favourite midnight musings are reminiscing at the sounds of rain on our windowpanes. A stranded shower or one complete day of it, we humbly cherish that which our beloved tries to satiate us with because like earth, our thirst is unquenchable.
I’m challenged by This Girl’s Got Curves to do the Seven Days Seven B&W Photos Challenge. This challenge is to post seven black and white photos, no people, no explanation, of everyday life for seven consecutive days. Challenge one new blogger each day.