I step outside into the winter sun.
I observe intriguing thoughts when it comes to the subject
of endings, for they never bring pleasure as my heart seems to observe too many
of them too soon.
But for now, I walk. A slight breeze nuzzles against me
asking to be a companion as I move through trees and cosy buildings that house
human hearts and more.
The leaves are to be raked as I step on a crisp afterthought
of an autumn gone. Another ending, and my frown forces itself into existence.
The breeze embraces again, and I feel the cool sunlight. No,
today is not for such thoughts, it seems to say.
I cross the road in a hurry to avoid the changing traffic lights,
and shift into the elevator to take me to my 9 to 5.
As evening dawns on the city, and drowns it in the afterglow
of a sun absent – I make my walk back. The winter sun has left, but the breeze
is still with me.
I feel comforted by its presence as I make my way ‘home’. To
my flat with me in absence.
A cooking session and
a dinner later, I sit in bed trying to reclaim the lost breeze through a
ceiling fan that gasps at my unseasonal behaviour. But then, habits die hard…and
loneliness is both a necessity and a concern.
So, it turns and the pages move slowly, forced to remain in
a false sense of inertia by my captive gaze. And so - I read, with small sips
of the newly opened bottle of Fratelli next to me, held in glass.
Memories. So many of them. And even as I read, I seem to
drift to another world as distraction takes hold once more in forced
reflection.
The winter of my disquiet is unnerving in the sense that
this is merely a continuation, and not a new story.
But I am glad. Of the chapters of this decade – for it
rendered me a better man than the broken boy that entered it.
Maybe being a better man doesn’t extrapolate to the privilege
of reassembly. You can still be a man of nothing even while being the one with
everything.
Spring will soon be here.
I hope the next few years give me courage to accept the man
I have become.
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