Nourished

This is how I distribute the shadows into an ongoing eternity. Hundred years have made me younger by the seconds. Now when I look back at the picturesque years growing along the past borders of evolution and metamorphosis, I smile a lot, the only concrete palpable feeling which I allow myself to express.

Down the crisscrossing lanes, there were books, to be read and gulped and a few to be digested and assimilated, music in colourful varying entrants, paint brushes, watercolours, acrylic and fevicol, which could fix almost everything except broken hearts and manhandled pride, a fairy tale castle of house with a garden which reminded one of camps and caravan and famous five and treasure hunt. The only treasure worth finding was a handful of memories tucked safely in the bushes and the neem tree. The rest was nourishment.

The reason why I am still breathing.