The translucency of time

I find myself flicking through pictures…some new…mostly old, while a playlist of old favourites plays in my ears. I’m walking a tightrope I know. It’s blatant provocation.
A well of old memories. Mostly pleasant. Mostly beautiful.
And home is so very far away.

He drove relentlessly through the streets of a sodden city in hope of finding a shoulder, a voice that reminds him of home. I just drove. What is it that pushes us through the bareness of nothingness of find that one sensation that calms us? I look at old pictures. He went to a familiar home.
Almost, but not quite.

Time tethers on a fine balance. Having run its course it clears, granting clarity in hindsight. Always hindsight. It passes and its passing is felt more than seen. There’s a years worth of snaps that can’t be accounted for in seconds. They just are. And there’s the scars to prove the storms passing…but they’re not all seen. Those too are felt.
Az, sometimes it’s good losing control and talking about not talking.
Cold Lamb Sandwiches kiddo. Cold Lamb Sandwiches.

Comments

Azam said…
hey... hope alls well. you're right... sometimes it is good to talk about not talking. see you soon, meri jaan. :)
7:59 AM
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