Background Music: Tire Swing by Kimya Dawson
Under the delirium of the afternoon sun, I decided to return to the familiar rattle of the keyboard. As I stared out of the apartment window, looking down on people scurrying like ants through the labyrinths of life, the thoughts came flooding in, breaking the embankments of distraction. I wondered whether everyone walks these streets with dusty secrets lying in their minds, burdening their lonely hearts, isolating them from you and me. Its all that clothes them, these lies, sheltering them from the harsh draught of truth. Imagine if they were all on display, a digital display flashing ominously above their heads, revealing years of well-kept secrets.
Most secret keepers don't realise their reactions and expressions open the rusty gates of their treasure box of secrets. Speak to them and you will be able to read them like an open book, despite the fact that they try too hard to keep themselves hidden from human judgement and opinion. I am acquainted with some such people and it is chuckle-worthy to see how their minds are as elaborate as that of the dishes my grandmother used to make. So many ingredients to cover up one secret after another, but the smell still wafts through the air, enticing everyone in its reach. And similarly, I find secret keepers interesting, there is an indescribable aura about them simply because they live to guard their mind. It's like holding water in your palm, it will leave you at some time.
I do not spare myself from these generalisations and scrutinies. I do keep some secrets, but they stay in the past, in the dingy prison cells of my mind. Don't worry, I'll spare you the concern because they'll stay there, untouched and forgotten...
;)
Under the delirium of the afternoon sun, I decided to return to the familiar rattle of the keyboard. As I stared out of the apartment window, looking down on people scurrying like ants through the labyrinths of life, the thoughts came flooding in, breaking the embankments of distraction. I wondered whether everyone walks these streets with dusty secrets lying in their minds, burdening their lonely hearts, isolating them from you and me. Its all that clothes them, these lies, sheltering them from the harsh draught of truth. Imagine if they were all on display, a digital display flashing ominously above their heads, revealing years of well-kept secrets.
Most secret keepers don't realise their reactions and expressions open the rusty gates of their treasure box of secrets. Speak to them and you will be able to read them like an open book, despite the fact that they try too hard to keep themselves hidden from human judgement and opinion. I am acquainted with some such people and it is chuckle-worthy to see how their minds are as elaborate as that of the dishes my grandmother used to make. So many ingredients to cover up one secret after another, but the smell still wafts through the air, enticing everyone in its reach. And similarly, I find secret keepers interesting, there is an indescribable aura about them simply because they live to guard their mind. It's like holding water in your palm, it will leave you at some time.
I do not spare myself from these generalisations and scrutinies. I do keep some secrets, but they stay in the past, in the dingy prison cells of my mind. Don't worry, I'll spare you the concern because they'll stay there, untouched and forgotten...
;)
No comments:
Post a Comment