in my dream, in wrote you a letter. i am awake now, the tv and radio both are playing around me, my father is the first to get up in our house and then i get up too. the weather has been humid, over the last couple of week. my eyes are still a little sleepy, sunday laziness i must say. i am writing you because i love writing, whenever i write – i write these lines “it’s been a while that i wrote something”, writing is a solace to my soul, like fresh garlic butter on a toast.
my expression has been lonely though, i don’t read, sketch, write or think of learning music now. i am tired may be or just not extraordinarily motivated. our private spaces are tangled with the our families and i have stopped trying.
though, this morning i am trying. i am opening the windows and doors, to see how beautiful life is. i know, you tell me how you find darkness within, we all do. but i see light more, i see light through your eyes – i see things you try to hide.
we’ve known each other a short while but to me, it feels that i’ve known you for years. we’ve let each other in through the lapses in our memories of past and dreams of our future. connected with a wire, we live cities apart – distanced by a pandemic, your presence in my days helps me stay sane, i believe.
i crave, long for a future, for the day, when i know the sound of your breath, the smell of your existence – as we sit by the forest lake, sipping our chai in clay pots.
oh, my heart takes me wonderful places, does yours too? are you a believer like me?