Chronological Tea Talk

    Excuse me sir, madam, colleague, acquaintance, and best-friend. I tend to get lost a lot so bear with me. It’s a habit, a horrendous one that is, and there are stages to it.   First, we’re introduced. We have the same shallow first conversation as others do when they first meet someone new. It’s a tiring conversation, nerve-wrecking and exhausting; we’re still testing the waters. I can’t decide if you’re blessed when you’re categorized as a member in my comfort zone or simply…… cursed. Second, we meet more often, coincidently, and according to the person: fortunately, or otherwise. I warm up to you like a child seeking warmth in the most dire and cruel winter nights. A friendship starts to bloom, can you see it blossom? It might grow in to the crimson red of the Geum spec , often letting the warning bells go off. This might be a toxic friendship, yet too early to decide. Third, I get used to your presence around. It becomes a habit, that subconsciously something doesn’t

Alone. It’s an adjective that describes a state of mind, the state of the soul, and the empty void inside one’s heart. One, just like alone, but without the fancy garnishes of the first and twelfth letters of the alphabet. It’s of no coincidence, since you become naturally  one  with the void. You are alone. Alone. It’s when the kettle boils in the inhumane hours of the night to mask the tears that your heart bleeds. It’s when it’s annoyingly loud around you, but even that can’t cause the slightest of ripples in the eerily empty sea of emotions inside your soul. It’s when your thoughts echo inside your brain, going from one side to another, smacking the sides of your mind in a silky smooth manner, as if rehearsed .  Alone. It’s when your thoughts take over amidst the noise, not only to silence each and every sound daring to enter your mind through the gates, but also to strip them from their voices. It’s when those thoughts choose how to interpret such noises and deliver

I've always had a weird and unexplainable fascination with airports. Flights and destinations aside, the actual airport dome, where the magic happens, has always captured my attention. You can witness life's miracles there. A mother expecting her husband's return and a father expecting his wife's. The children waiting for their parents' return and the parents waiting for their children's. A person in love awaiting the arrival of their significant other and a company representative awaiting that of a CEO for instance. The airport is where flowers are given, hugs exchanged, tears shed, and where a part of one's heart is ripped away from them, often unwillingly, sometimes in a horrendous way and other times, in the more beautiful tremendous ways. The airport is where all races are united. Where you get the chance for an encounter with the whole world. Different origins, myriads of destinations, but all under the same roof. It's like a mini