Last night, we had another one of our little adventures. Just a few hours of going out, exploring and laughs. It was good to be able to loosen up a bit. We all needed it direly. Then, it was off to a late dinner. And that's where it started.
The traffic. The misery of moving mere metres every few minutes. The rows and rows of red lights one after another. The never ending procession of cars. And a couple of rude, irresponsible drivers. The list goes on.
Problem was, it was just a normal thing here. But somehow it felt different this time round. I felt differently. Detached from the vessel of my body, distant from the meek talks and occasional laughter. I wonder, this time delving deeper than ever, why do I stay?
Oblivious as I was, their words meant nothing to me at that time. Two floors and one rude driver after that we were out and running. Only to be stopped dead in the jam outside. What a life we all have!
Dinner was awfully filling. I was ready to drop from hunger, so I appreciate the portion I got. But, still the loneliness hung over me. How awkward? To feel lonesome in the midst of friends in the middle of a bustling city bursting with the joy of night-life on a Friday night. The world passed by.
It was there, walking to the car that I heard the question. Not knowing why, of all the exchanges that night, this one did not escape me.
"Did you really want to be here?"
It took a moment to realize though, that they were all looking at me. Avoiding the query, I stepped inside the vehicle. Silence followed. Then my voice came out, dry and hoarse from keeping shut too long. The answer couldn't be clearer.
Blue, red, gold and green. I have followed the story with much enthusiasm. Yet, I find myself questioning my understanding of the artwork all the time. It seems that always something new comes in, or perhaps I did not focus on the details the first, second and third time through making new details visible the next I read it.
The ending was just as I have expected: beautiful, joyous with a mix of sorrow. Full of uncertainty but with a warranty for many more good to come, both for the characters as well as the world's populace as a whole. An ending. Also a new beginning. Full of hope and hopeless too (in a good sense).
Nevertheless, a sweet cut to a long and beautifully woven piece of art. The way I look at it, I imagine it to be a piece of cloth that started with a plain thread but has now become a Batik with a loose end at one corner, small and insignificant but capable of disintegrating the whole woven structure with a tug.
Life, it seems, is not so different now is it?
I wouldn't have wished for anything more than to be somewhere in the woods in the singular white structure I would call my home just observing and gaining new perspectives and ideas to put into paper. To write and write my life away in the closeness of mother nature. What joy it would be!