It is flowing through my veins and rushing to my head, filling me up, draining me out, and filling me up again. My vision is a swift swirl of blue and white. The sunlight etches intricate patterns on the road, a chaotic knit of grey and golden. I am walking down the road. Only this time, it is not a real road. Nothing that I see is really real. Only the music, that mingles with my blood and rushes to my head, and bursts out in colourful bubbles is true.
Nothing can touch me now. The brown dog at the corner of the street, the smoke coiling up from the steaming tea pot of the road side tea stall, the cars… blazes of black and silver speeding past, nothing . I cannot touch them either. I can only watch. Like one watches a movie. Observe. The rhythm. The beat. The way everything fits into the sound. Life surrounding me, orchestrated to the subtlest note of the music. Playing out like a fancy techno visualisation. As if everything else was created after the music. Planned according to it. And suddenly, everything seems so perfect. The wind after the sudden autumn shower ruffling my hair, the golden sunlight lighting up the mossy wet walls, the smell corn being roasted…
the music is becoming louder…. Reaching a crescendo…
Life in technicolor.
3 comments:
Writing pattern resembles Rain, but the tone is quite different.. very colorfully different.. I love the pictures you add to the post.. Gives it a lot more pep!
Good stuff!! :-D
Well, it's the desperation for abstraction. To garb the mundane in the light of colour droplets...
I like this pic.. very Tarein Zameen Pe type !! :-)
Post a Comment