Sunday, 11 October 2015

Across the Worlds

I imagine a world where fedoras are an acceptable fashion accessory and each feather is a gift from the birds that paint the sky in vicious colours. These colours have names I haven’t heard off, colours like Amethyst and Claret and Cyan. And even when these birds flock in crowds, they never lose their individuality to be a member of a collective. 

The clouds look like cotton candy and tell stories of dragons, ghosts and fairies in the same frame. No one talks about something as mundane as the weather and the weather, oh it is always pleasant. It’s suitable for long sleeves that reach up to half of your palm and hot chocolate. The wind whispers to the trees and they laugh in merry. The cool breeze envelopes you in warm hugs and runs its nails through your scalp like a nostalgic lover, like lullabies. 

It’s a messy world and sometimes people forget to do their dishes for 3 days. But no one forgets to wish their friends on their birthdays. Sometimes they show up at each other’s house at 1 in the morning with flowers and melted butter popcorn. Laughter is the main language and soft sighs on the occasional Tuesday afternoon. 

It’s a simple world, calm even but never stagnant. It’s jagged around the edges and a little bit broken. And the people are scratched and bruised; but they are also highly trained in first aid. No one is left in a dark alley to bleed to death. Dark alleys are for holding hands and passion. It’s a haphazard mix of people who work like a well oiled machine even when though it feels like they wouldn’t. 

Sometimes I glimpse my world between the cracks of this one. I see it in kind eyes and smiles of strangers. I feel at home when the cat in my college scampers up on my legs and settles in my lap for some sleep while I lean back and read. In between the movements of her belly, I can hear Rusty Clanton and Tessa Violet singing and dancing to Young blood. And I find myself working to squeeze over through these gaps all the time. 

Through the lens of a camera, beyond the pixelated memories lies my world. The dictionaries there spell HATE the way you spell NON-EXISTENT. The retinas undergo natural selection to see beauty and every little crease in your palm is another one you have loved. You never need sorrow to understand joy. There isn’t magic in your fingertips but your brain is always letting out fireworks. Your strongest weapon is imagination and worst enemy apathy. And all I want is to watch worlds collapse into starlight as I try to bring my world here, bit by bit. 

Shout out to Akhilesh for all his wonderful feedback which made this post possible. 

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