Lost

A swish of cloth. A hint of perfume. Berries. Follow. An almost deserted by-lane leads to a crowded street. The background noise of the throng threatens to spill into the foreground and at times it successfully does so. The mirrors on the sidewalk show that you are not alone. If you look into them, you can't immediately find yourself. There! You almost got lost! One face out of many. A part of an organism. An atom making the crowd. Connected by a million tentacles.

Uncountable sights vie for a second of your gaze. A billion sounds fight for your attention. A trillion smells repel and mesmerize you. The skin pulses with sensation. It beats! It vibrates. A metal strip placed against the sun. Hot to touch. Senses overwhelmed. Lost. The more you absorb, the more you lose yourself. Dumb down, baby! Stop your brain. Shut down the processing unit. To feel little is to survive.

Life for the dead.

The tiny pinpricks of hope are like light. When the sun shines, the luck turns for the better, they invade the darkness like a spear of life. All you need is a crack, to let them through. The darkest room can have the tiniest of the tiniest holes on its rotting walls, and passing through it will be that ray of light, and within it, the dust particles sparkle like gold. It will make you soar, the very sight, it will take you to the stars. The stars shine right in front of you and the beam is your universe. You can float too, a tiny speck of gold on a black canvas. The blacker the sky, the brighter you shine.

It's all there.

I am hanging out to dry with my old clothes.

Fingers still red from the prick of an old rose.

Well, a heart that hurts is a heart that beats.

- U2