Swings...

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

The mind experiences a thousand rides, strolling down from a memory to another which exists only in the plane of the mind, a 'fictional' reality for at times,one lives them for 'real' and at other times ,a perceived reality. Read this and get into thinking of what is 'real' or if it is an illusion. A quest for freedom finds reflection in this abstract piece of expression. It subtly echoes that human existence is in chains, here,only an individual represents the existence.Words like 'cellar' here, indicate a life like in prison(chained). But, there's hope!

 

My shirt smells like weary optimism.

The ceiling is low and wooden.

However, I like the little room here.

Holding my knees clasped,

Thus, I write.

 

The conflation of the words produced by the pen pregnant with my thoughts and the blank pages of the notebook waiting eagerly to be touched by the nip of the pen is what a weary body and a hungry mind can console oneself with it when there's no morsel of food to delight the appetite.

 

The pen wants to continue dancing on the white smooth texture but the mind has dozed off.

 

One week had passed. I am now grazing on the greenery. Not any less than a humble, quiet animal I would want to be. The breeze kisses my feet and my curls touch my face against the sunlight that is merrily blinding me.

 

The kiss of freedom! Cherry-hued. I smile ,whether it's the cellar or the empty green.


Submitted: September 28, 2012

© Copyright 2020 gargeebaruah. All rights reserved.

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Miscellaneous / Memoir