Sail.

It reminds me suddenly of pyramids.Of unspoken events.Calendars with every day crossed out with red ink.When i look out,i find an empty teacup,marred with the imprint of a trespassing boot.As i put these things together,I am reminded of a girl who wanted to write stories,sleep in a bunker and flee from gunshots.In a twisted way it reminds me of her valour and ambition.NOW,it reminds me of a cork.in a precious way,it reminds me of adventures I longed for,as printed words overlapped with summer holidays.Some random smell reminds me of the first death in my world.The wonder with which I stared at the cold,slight body or that one,crooked tooth which popped out,amidst all the flowers.Or the bitter quarrel,as an aftermath.It reminds me of a popular aunt with whom I experienced a much-criticised film.In a vague way,I understood,with the sudden insight of an eight-year old.Intense sorrow for the different engulfed me.I wonder why it angers me to hear a shopkeeper reprimand me.For consuming my choice of meat.And why I smile a week later at his fake apology.

I fear it might break one day.I fear I shall split into two pieces from all the smiling.I wish i could paint absurd figures and let it all out.And smile wisely as people judged,and discussed and smoked a cigarette or two.