I woke up with a foul taste in my mouth which I confess was as bitter as sudden reminders of the gap between what I wanted these years to be and what they really are. You may not really know the chasm between waking up with a feeling of completeness and waking up to realize that each day is like the other, but, I know what you do know is that there are days when you are contemplating on how the sun rays are playing with the curtains to create a pattern you will never understand and you cry. You do not know why are you crying and you tell yourself that you are happy and life could not get any better, but you cry. You cry because you are alive and nothing you know can make you feel better.
The resonance of a stopped clock.
It is not empty. It has everything a room ought to have-a twin bed, a chair by the corner, a big wardrobe, little fairy lights, a huge balcony and a frame. You have that silence- all is still but the restless chirping of the birds outside that also echoes the restlessness in the heart of the one who lives in the big room.
There is a big clock on wall in the room. The one that stops ticking every once in a while. You change the batteries, you rearrange the hand, you try figuring out the mechanics of it all but it refuses to go on. You would say a working clock makes a noise, but I hear a clatter in a stopped watch. The clinging so loud that it threatens the sound of the chirping birds.
The quietness that refuses to speak and the howl that just cannot be hushed.
She walks back home every evening. It is the only time she thinks she is not thinking. She lets the crowd, the sound of the horn and the barking of the dogs do the talking. All this shor but it is silent. The quietness is blaring.
She reasons that she needs to start thinking again; maybe then the silence will go away. So, she thinks her way through. It becomes too loud to tolerate. She covers her ears to let the roar pass away. It doesn’t. It refuses to be hushed…