She danced a magical dance, and her feet hardly touched the ground. Mesmerized, I watch as lighting comes with a tone of surprise. He brings the tension along with him and 1,2,3… I start to count with my palm firm on the wooden armrest. Then comes in the special guest, behold the mighty thunder they say. All my windows clatter in fear as thunder roars, and the lights go off. I sit in the faint candlelight and wish to get back the heartbeat thunder stole from me.
There is a strange comfort in being kilometers away from the place you call home and yet feeling like you belong there, in the moment. Isn’t life all about finding the right places to be belonged to at each moment? Isn’t every ounce of human brilliance, every invention, every novella, born only because it was created right there and then, where it was born?
I look out the window, and surprisingly I don’t see COVID or its mercenaries, nor do I hear the gossips and village grapevine. They have all fallen into the abyss. Very much like the latter, which I have adorned under the pretense of cute characteristics of simple people trying to make their everyday lives interesting, the former has also fallen through the rabbit hole, not even surprising me by guest appearances in dreams.
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