He stood in the middle of the street.. the scent of some jasmine..drew him into past dreams..dreams of a youth in the east..an east of childhood..adventures…first experiences..first love..death..loss..roses..books…first kiss on the roof..
The memories …a tapestry of life…of dreams …of better future.. and here he was in a lonely city …residing in his broken soul…moving along a linear road to self combustion…the man who vanished..the wanna be writer..a paperback writer…typing secretly when the eyes of god are closed… Between breaths of other mortals..exhales and exhales…episodes of mania and love…death and depression … Lays the jewel
Walking the streets at nights..shops closed…empty..vacant…traces of beings…footprints of people passed…racks of clothes..new..fashionable…stylish..vivid colours…bias cuts…neon…red..yellow..oranges..chocolates…imagining young fashionistas there every morning..trying on..off..I love this..are my hips too wide..do I look big..small..Curvy..flat in it
Thinkin.g of her tucked in her bed..in a far away land..a sleeping beauty in a desert kingdom..a lady of her own dreams and desires…protected by the good heart of friends from the preying eyes of stranger males…who would wake her up..not a kiss..but take her seriously..listen to her..and make her smile..cover her in sheets of silk..velvet..nothing made in China..banghladesh or any sweat shops..
Love ..love..love no idea is it love..she must wake up..smile to the rising sun..wash up..pray..vent into the blowing wind..let it play with the black curls of her silky hair..a house of silk..he fell into the first strand and slept there..curled into a sea of velvet..dark as the night