Yesternight, it was so cloudy and the sky looked so vintage. From my vinyl dreams, I played ‘Bringing It All Back Home‘. Some albums are so well named.
I was listening to Mr. Tambourine Man and I knew I was walking home. To a place where music was plenty. To a place where melodies held meaning. In it, I smoked, I danced with alcohol and planted daisies of all my favourite moments. In it, I played Dylan. Because all nights need music, love, and red wine.
Some nights are like that. Isn’t it? Like fresh stardust served in crimson plates. Like dreams making sense. These nights, you can smell the universe. The spaces between the stars. These nights, you can see the puzzles of life coming together to paint the bigger canvas.
We all need these nights where we could crush ourselves alone into the cocoon of solitude and mirror what has been lived. We all need these nights where the midnight breeze could touch our souls only to remind what it feels like to be alive. Like standing on the hilltop, these nights lets you see the whole. The whole of yourself, alone and lost in the vastness of the world. So then, you can scream and shout and maybe, lull yourself because everybody is sleeping.
Even when they’re wide awake, the world doesn’t care. Why would they then, when they are sleeping?
Have you ever thought how you would live a day without these nights to end them? Or rather, how you would sleep without a day to wake up to? We believe that we have a world every moment, now, then and for later. The things that we take for granted. Sigh!
For now, picture yourself on the seat at the far end of your room, with a book in your hand and a smoke in your breath. Looks like a cosy frame.
Looks like you are living the moment.
Featured image credits: Tumblr