Where to start? When was the day we've suddenly drifted apart? We used to be so closed like a middle finger tightly clinging on the back of forefinger. I even conspire to the future to name my first child, Alphabet. 26 letters compressed in one word. But then, we drifted off like a four season. You couldn't bear the coldness of the day so you decided going, exploring the dryness of the night. You reason out on me, telling me things; exciting new places. In my mind there formed pictures of green trees, its vines, butterflies, flowers, water gushing out, the smell of nature, the taste of fiction-- the coldness of comfort freezed that forever. It was all in the mind as I chose routine over passion. Shaking your head, you draw a long sigh, opened the door and paused. You stepped out without closing the door behind you. It was always a question mark by the end of the day, full of ifs and butterflies in the stomach after you left. I found the guts to draw the curtains up and check where could you have possibly gone but winds blow off any traces of footsteps. I don't even know where North and South is. Or tell the difference between East and West. Even what feet to use first in finding you is very hard at this time. Give me time, Alphabet. Go ahead and explore for what we have is four worlds. Chance encounter is never impossible. Just be patient.
Written 12 December 2012
Update
28 January 2018
Getting back to the habit of doing my own laundry, perhaps by this the habit of writing will come back as well.
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