Pocket Full Of Proses.

Chapter 1 : Realisations

Chapter 1 : Realisations

Confined to my house during a pandemic, I had nowhere to go to but the terrace at 6 in the evening. I am currently at my grandparents' house. While coming here, I experienced something I never imagined I would. The streets were quiet and entire towns were empty, the ride was the quickest yet. In the garden at night, the day I arrived, I noticed a strange sight, there was no soul to be seen. It was unusually quiet, like there was an apocalypse. I noticed the street lamp's yellow light contrasted well with the blue dark night; I noticed the red roses blooming beautifully in my garden. I also noticed the beautiful green tree I loved, gone.

As I went out to the painted white terrace at the blue hour, I had red and black headphones on which coincidentally matched with my red and black outfit, I had TXT's blue hour on loop, I have been obsessed with them lately. As soon as I opened the door, I saw beautiful florescent orange clouds, a blue sky, and a bright yellow setting sun in front of me. There weren't many in the beginning but as time went on, huge flocks of parrots flew by one after the other, so large in fact, they did not fit in the frame when I was trying to take pictures. I soon gave up and instead captured them with my eyes. TXT's vocals and the song of the parrots went together beautifully. The scene was aesthetic and perfect, in the objective sense of the terms. I stood there mesmerized looking at the changing clouds and the birds flying over my head; nature entertains so well.

There on the terrace, I saw many others like me, all trapped inside their houses and most imprisoned in their cell-phones. They too were there to look at the many flocks of parrots and to watch the sun set, some while listening to music, some while talking on the phone and others with their family talking or playing games. I realized we're not so different, you and I.

I stood there and tried to see as far as I could; I saw many things. There were so many trees. Were there always? I never noticed. I saw the flocks flying unusually, perhaps because of the strong wind. I also saw people engaging in various activities; it was surprising to watch families spending time with each other, it's rare these days. There were brothers playing cricket and there were grandparents happily watching their grandchildren dancing. There were kids roller skating quickly and there were aged people using walking sticks, a perfect representation of the circle of life.

I also saw a multitude of houses everywhere I could see, many not yet fully built. They seemed quite ugly I won't lie, that is until I realized it's someone's everything. There lie many untold stories behind those unpainted walls; stories truly one of a kind, yet will remain unheard. There live many people behind those cracked walls, each a unique outcome of the roll of nature's dice, each a gamble of nature, each a book waiting to be read. The walls themselves hold many stories; they are the witnesses of the books as they were being written and of the stories as they were being played out. The world is extremely fascinating yet we often fail to see. Why is that? Perhaps a major reason is the internet.
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