It is early evening. The stars must slowly be rising from slumber for their night duty. I am looking at some old mails and wondering how much change has been a part of my life.
New words and states of being have entered my life over the past seven years. Such radical changes, such altered behaviour and a new wisdom tooth poking its head as if to authorize all of this.
I wish sometimes chapters of life were written on a word document and stored in a pendrive hung around our neck when we were born. And for a certain amount of times, we must be allowed to rewrite or alter paragraphs and phrases to make amends.
It is actually a decent state I am in, right now. Moderately aloof and disconnected with the world at large. Happy for simple beautiful things. Having certain sensible dreams. An almost-acceptance of being what I am. Few regrets. Few wistful wishes. And a small stash box full of sense and straightforwardness to steer ahead.
It is one of those days meant to be spent cuddled in the room without a thought in the head. But one still can't stop wishing for a distant migrating bird to drop a dream on my lap before I sleep.