Day 17: Red

The color of love.
The color of the tiny dog, the only toy given by my father.
The color of the bag, that travelled with me away from home.

The color of sanctity.
The color of my first dance costume.
The color of the box holding all the jewelry, which became a burden as I grew up.

The color of despair.
The color of kidney beans.
The color of the dress I hope to wear someday.

The color of excitement.
The color of the notebook, which captures my dreams.
The color of Bum's hat, who accompanies me wherever I go.

The color of joy.
The color of the raspberries that adorn my morning breakfast.
The color of the fresh juicy grapes which provide a welcome respite in a long day.

The color of hope.
The color of a new beginning.
The color of the bricks lining my new apartment.

Day 16: People

It isn't about the place, but about the people.

The new place you moved to, the new job you started, the new class you joined or the new route you're running, all these places are but a means to meet people. You never realize when life stops being about the place and it all becomes about the people.
What would life be without the roommate who helps you cook, listens to you whine and provides a steady company and makes the bare room home.
What would life be without the friend you make in office, who talks you through bugs, has tea with you everyday in the afternoon and gives you a chance to walk around in a sedentary job.
What would life be without the girl who gives you her notes, and chats with you during class and catches your eye every time something funny happens.
What would life be without the old couple walking every evening holding each other's hands, reassuring you that yes, love does exist.

The people you talk to, interact with, the people you ignore and the people who you never get a chance to understand. They make the world you live in.

The whole is bigger than the sum of the parts, but the whole would not exist without these tiny parts.

Saying goodbye is tough.

You're not just saying goodbye to the cozy comfort of routine but also to the conversations you'll never have, the places you'll never visit with the same people, the recurring private joke that will get lost in the folds of time.

I'm just not ready to say goodbye yet.

Day 15: Old white couch

He was sitting in the coffee shop, whiling away his time before a bus, on the old white couch in the middle of the room.

She walked in, confidently looking around, catching his fleeting gaze and introducing herself.

He sprang up from the couch, admiring her glasses, respecting her headscarf.

She led him to the counter, making him feel at ease, laughing about how coffee was the wrong beverage for her.

It was sweet and awkward.
Them talking carefully, asking deliberate considerate questions. Their voices clear. Their eyes flitting around. Their posture stiff, each one at opposite ends of the couch.

It was slow and engaging.
Them leaning forward. Talking about what they were doing. Getting comfortable on the couch. Their minds becoming unrestrained. Their voices getting lower.

It was unexpected and passionate.
Them accidentally brushing against each other. Losing themselves in the realm of hopes and dreams. Their gaze not leaving the other.

It was sudden and magical.
Them leaving the couch together, bus forgotten. Plans made for a future together.

It was meant to be.

Day 14: Glass box

There are times when I'm there with everyone, having the time of my life and then suddenly I find myself here.

I can see myself there, inside the box. I can see myself laugh and talk and play and interact with the people around me and hike down to the waterfall and perch myself on a rock to stare at the water and to feel the mist on my face

But I'm here, too, outside the box. Watching. Observing. Learning.

It is a strange feeling, but so enlightening. 

I know what I'm doing, but I can see me doing those things.

I can see people acting and me reacting.

I can see me acting and people reacting.

I can see me through my walls of perceptions and I can see the people around me see me without my walls of perception.

I think I live in a glass box of perceptions.

Day 13: "I'm kinda over being told to throw my hands up in the air"

It is amazing how a single line from a hugely popular pop song could be so deep.

This single line can resonate with an entire generation of kids who associate having a good time with being popular, with dressing up in the perfect clothes, with drinking in clubs and dancing to people telling them to throw their hands up in the air to show how much of a good time they're having.

I like to go dancing as much as the next person, but I am really tired of people making me conform to this supposed ideal life. 

Maybe I don't want to dance every saturday night.

Maybe I don't want to drink beer every time I go out with my buddies.

Maybe I want to have a good time in the club with them all the same, so I'll have a gelato instead of the beer.