Against the Wind
The pink and purple sky cast a dim light on the hut’s thatch. Growing darkness of the setting night made any visible light that much brighter in contrast. Milo sat on the short wall around the front porch. Milo looked at the sky, at the stars that twinkled ever so faintly above his home. During the day, Milo managed the virtual infrastructure of a financial technology company. Today was a Thursday, and so Milo took his leave early.
Leaves that Fall
Cold winds flew through the dusty footpaths of Lopin. The desolate place bought an eerie feeling to any sentimental being’s mind that dared looking around. Milo walked along the small trail, his head hanging on his shoulders, eyes looking at the dirt in front of him. He felt sick in his stomach. The missed opportunity filled him with feelings of regret, pondering what could have been. Regret, he knew, was not worth dwelling on.
The Dying Light
The sun was setting in the plains while rays of pink, orange, and red penetrated clean air of the dry evening atmosphere. Moglos was looking at the silhouette of mountains in the distance, at the very far end of the vast grassy plains that he reigned over. Evening stars scattered like forgotten treasures, each one soon to be a glimmering jewel in the velvet cloak of night. Moglos turned toward the sky, it was an unfathomable vast expanse of nothingness he could not comprehend, it was getting dark.
Dull Mornings
He could not make sense of what he was doing—or why he was doing it. Warm rays of the sun gleamed in from outside through the window in total silence while dry light from two screens sitting on his desk bought acute pain to sleepy eyes. Just yesterday, the Sunday morning, he was elated at this exact time. The touch of the handlebars felt strangely comfortable as he sped along the wavy, narrow path stretching through green fields of paddy.
Milo
Bright rays of the morning sun pierced through the tree canopies below as he peeked down from the rock’s edge. A cold breeze swept across where he was standing, illuminating the dying firewood from last night. He was determined, feeling a sense of purpose that had not felt in quite a time when he was working for the corporation. Bird songs from all directions mixed with the air in perfect harmony.
The Malady
Darkness from outside the window met his eyes while the sun was yet to rise. The drizzle had started around midnight, and continued growing little by little, sounding lazy along with the defeated feeling of a dry morning breeze. Not all mornings used to be like this, he knew there used to be better days. A pining for the happy days underlining the present thought passed through his mind as his head rested on the pillow for minutes to pass by and never return.
No Man's Island
The foot path winded into the woods among the giant trees. I was left with my backpack, and the water would last for only 4 days if my calculations were not far off. As I walked along the path, I tried to remember how life used to be back at home. The routines which seemed annoying back then seemed to be desirable, almost enjoyable, in light of the comfort of a boring life within civilization.
Memories of Nowhere
Cold breeze from the north was bringing in with it a moonless night that would soon be lit with a thousand stars. I just finished setting up the campfire. The jeep rests on its giant wheels a safe eight feet away, tiny LEDs of a light strip glittering around her roof like dormant fireflies. The patch of grassy land I’m camping on after a long day moving over rugged terrain roughly centers the eastern part of the sanctuary.
Rain and Sunshine
Around the world, two times or more Ridin' my cycle, flyin' by the sea Livin' the dream of boyhood me, Glidin' the clouds to eternity.
Thus Spoke Bologratus
Time flies when it’s good, flows slowly when it’s tough. Such is the state of time for the mortal beings. Those who are born of time, live of time, and die of it, are mercilessly taken prisoner of time. Not many above or below the scorching sun escape the all encampassing non-entity that is time. The best of the best men of the past had to go at the call of it, and so will be the matter of affairs for years to come by.