This day

Unauthorized persons prohibited beyond this point, it says in white and red. The regular. The sign of a man, walking away into the distance.

The red tiles have leafy green patches, peering discreetly, almost apologetic by their sudden appearance. Upwards and onwards, onwards and upwards, they seem to whisper.

The sky is electric blue and the full moon stares menacingly at the North Sea Fish restaurant. I wonder how many people are eating fresh fish for dinner.

This is the day I will remember for the piercing incongruence, the day I fought to salvage the little scabs that were left of what Auden would have called a crooked heart. I wonder if he's smiling wryly somewhere, having described the human condition in a way no one else can.

This is also the day I will remember as the day I thought that  life runs in loops and circles, vulnerability enmeshed with resilience.This is the day I will remember for being the day that I was remorseful and joyous.

The vertical buildings form arcs above my head. The clouds stand still, some hovering around in a grandfatherly fashion, ever ready to whisper to their little ones, "Don't worry. everything will be alright."

Dimly lit window panes betray faces fraught with pain. From the corner of my eye, I see brick red roofs, years and years old looking freshly painted by a young artist's  tactile enthusiasm.

As I sit on the portico, I cut  a diminutive figure against the love, blood and sweat of the ancients as my paper thin heart gets crushed without the slightest blink.


Rudrani said…
This is brilliant. Melancholia :)