Es muss sein

by sunil on August 19, 2008

Clementine: This is it, Joel. It’s gonna be gone soon.
Joel: I know.
Clementine: What do we do?
Joel: Enjoy it. Say good-bye.
~Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

 

It is something like this , isn’t it?
To fall in love- is to be invisible, to be able to vanish with one person while around everyone.

She smiles.

The breeze beckons a memory. A curl of air floats with it happily.
You know I used to love you for that; like when you turn abruptly and smile.
And those hazel eyes.

I know. She smiles.

A smile is just a number,
another count of rainbow
against the horizon of love.

He gently places the strand behind the curve that forms her ear.
Why do you do that?
I like it that way.

Why?
I like myself when I do that.

She smiles.

One of these days I must tell her that brown doesn’t look good on her, He promises himself. He knows he cant tell.He could tell what she wore only while he was driving back.

Do you remember when we met?
He thinks of so many things he could have said. Yes so many. He remembers only her smile. And a yellow windcheater, that held the bone of the conversation.

You don’t have to say it aloud.When you know, you know.And that is all there is to it, He tells himself.

And waits, in anticipation.

Isn’t it strange, this light and the moon? She wonders.
No!! She cannot convince herself outside of it . She wants to let it go and still she holds onto it so hard.
Silence grows within the heart.Slowly into a smile that aches.

Why does she do that? She asks herself until she falls asleep.
She dreams in her sleep.

Obviously there is no such thing as a favourite. How would you define favourite ?
Its what you like most?

I like different things at different times.
What do you like most?

Right now, The piano over there.

Her music floats in laughter.
Within his dreams, he could hear her. I must hold onto it , he tells himself. It slips and wafts away into a distant fragrance.But it haunts on some evenings. It still does!And there is nothing in the world he can do about it.
There is a pleasure in futility.
She smiles.

Almost everynight she fights inside herself.
I want him away from everything. From myself. It is very important.

But he would come back, at different places , in rainy crowds as someone in an yellow windcheater, in wilting roses and old favourites.

A piano sings, somewhere, very close.
She looks for it in desparation.She cant find it.

Suddenly it becomes bright, only she feels it.She must be still in love.

She can’t escape, He knows her every curve, every space.

Do you miss me?? That is all she wants to ask him.

There is a terrible ache, that flows through them, between them.
But neither of them want to leave.

What are you thinking?
Nothing.

She still smiles…..

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