The sun set, turning the orangish sky into lilac and deeper shades of blue eventually turning to black. Clouds breaking into fragments like little pieces of cotton, dispersing into the vast. The sand felt cold. So did the waves that came crashing to our feet, embracing them and then retreating back like a lover, who gives us the best kiss of our life and suddenly fades away, leaving behind the imprints of their lips.
Tell me about your art. He turned towards me as I kept looking into the ocean.
I could feel his gaze on me. His eyes, you can’t lie to them. Never. They hold your gaze and you can see galaxies colliding into them.
I write. I said, after a pause.
About? He questioned, again.
I write about humans and animals. And gods and monsters. About the men who fuck multiple women and the ones who spend their entire life loving one woman. About the women who get raped and then kill themselves. About the ones who get raped and then kill the rapist. About the childer who lost their innocence in the smoke they puffed out. About the children who had no choice but to work.
I write about all of them.
I write about anxiety, lust, craving, pain, excitement, happiness, distance, love, anger, depression.
I write about culture, religion, belief, opinions, superstitions, perspectives.
I write about this world.
This is my art. And I love it.
I took a deep breath after the monologue. He kept looking at me. Straight into my eyes. And then looked away.
Write about me. He said.
Can galaxies be confined to words? I asked.
You can do it. I know. he answered.
Meet me more often then. I want to know you. I said, meaning every word of it.
The dusk had fallen by now. It was getting cold. There were no clouds. It was a starless night.
Hold my hand, lets walk. He stood and held out his hand.
Where are we going? I asked, holding his hand.
Where ever the street lights take us, I thought you wanted to know me better. he replied. And we walked.
|yes I am capable of writing utter nonsense too|