Farewell.

I am not a fan of people leaving.
By leaving I mean them, the ones you are close to moving away either permanently or for a given period of time.
And why is it bad? It is because it makes you realize that there is a that-person-shaped void created in your universe. This void represents everything that they meant to you, the little things that you would miss about them. It cannot be filled again. It can just be ignored. Pushed as far back as you possible can, buried under the layers of mundanity that dictates one's everyday life.

That is one aspect of it.

Another is the question of 'why?'
Why should you feel anything for anybody. Why get close to another soul?

Separation is inevitable. Life comes in the way, and nothing can be done about it.

You cherish someone, they reciprocate and then they move on. You think of that one moment in time, which is now past, in which you held someone and it meant something. And for the rest of that particular time frame you do your bit to get it back, which sadly is now only a memory.
Or there is the scenario that they too end up staying. All in the hope of that one elusive moment.
You have someone for sometime and then you move on to be someone else who means something else for some other person.
And so goes on this vicious cycle.

Yet we play our part because....

Open interpretations.

This picture was drawn by a friend.
I wondered what she had tried to convey through this picture. What story did it tell?

I see an old man, sitting on the outside of what seems like a cemetery. The cross above his head responsible for my assumption of the setting. Maybe he is grieving the loss of someone, someone who must have meant something to him. Maybe a wife, or a son. Or even a friend, maybe his only one.  I wonder what the stairs imply. And his slippers. Maybe he is distraught over the loss. And it is there to emphasize the importance of the person.
The old man has a vacant expression on his face. It is not of peace, but of a tranquility that results from the acceptance of chaos in one's life. I think he is grieving for a loss that happened a long time ago, and that he forgot to stop grieving about it. But is this what happens to people who do not accept loss, who learn to live around it. Letting it consume you slowly in your mind before its eventual claim on your body.
I concluded that this was something to do with loss, and the pain accompanying it.

And I ask her, what is it that you are trying to convey through this. She told me that she tried to recapture an image, which made an impression on her, using watercolours. And that was the result of it.
So I ask if I can have a look at the Original picture; this is it.

Was I wrong in my assumptions? Maybe. But can you dispute it? Well except for the cemetery part, which maybe true, I think I can live with my take on it.

That was my first impression on the picture drawn. If she had not mentioned it, I would have gone on to think of it as a brilliant piece of art with an underlying message to the rest of the world.
But this picture taken is exactly that. It still is art, captured through a different medium, and open to interpretation to the rest of the world.
And each of our interpretations and complex analysis will be far from the truths of the world that this man lives in. Maybe he sat there because he was tired, with slippers he found, which made no sense together to the rest of the world but him.
That is absolute freedom.
Away from the world that was created for us in the minds of others who came before. Away from the shackles of our reality that binds one slipper in this world to the only other of the same kind. 

B and double you.

Fade in,
B and double you,
The warm sunlit place,
that'd be the setting,
the butterfly earrings,
and those benches in shade.
The beautiful time that we longed,
would be the time that i'd remember.
Then we hoped for togetherness,
as now we still do,
all tucked away in this memory room.
With no windows to wake up to dawn.
Or doors to leave,
This is mine, and you cannot take it away.
I wished you did,
and I wished I'd let you.
But for all the times we spent,
together,
wondering what to do,
or planning the next trip to paradise,
I'd miss this,
the sun upon your face,
with me,
and the hope,
of a beautiful future,
etched on that bench,
sitting idle, no more.