Friday, 20 May 2016

WEDNESDAY

Sitting by the deserted aisle in Plunkett Square, she smiled , as the Sun set behind in restlessness. Her presence strikingly conspicuous. She knew not the dreadfulness of the world before her, but I believe she was afraid. She was very afraid. Too afraid to be conscious, so as to involuntarily dismiss it altogether. She slowly rose, with reluctance, and unaccustomed anticipation, as I could see. Maybe I chose to. 
The truth be told, everything else seems like a gigantic lie. But for some lies, you choose to believe in them. I did, for what seemed like an imaginary yet intuitive haven. Never considered the illusive nature, and that such a lie could ever knock the doors of possibility, became my fertile source of happiness. 

It is often in her absence, that I look outside. Not an absolute gaze at the dilapidated depot by the corner or the worn pigeon-nest on the cemented edge of my windowsill, but something farther. One can judge by the look in my eyes, the emotions of a hunter. A hunt too early in its time, farther in it's approach, though I know she is not coming back, not so soon. Nonetheless, I look outside. I seek what is no better than nothing. Waiting, hoping, for her allure is the most hauntingly beautiful thing, I have ever known.