“There is nothing to save, now all is lost,

but a tiny core of stillness in the heart

like the eye of a violet.”

― D.H. Lawrence

Sometimes as I walk down the road in search of refuge from the beating May sun at the bus stop, I stop and sit. With the vapours rising up and heat making the air just above the road play tricks by forming mirages, my gaze unconsciously turns to view the seemingly uninteresting objects right before me.

Stretching from eternity to eternity these unicoloured cones seem so mundane. Passed by us every day and not even a single one bizarre enough to draw our interest. All: the same, unmoving, still like the summer life. Still- just like us; watching as they stand- just like us. The speeding cars that zoom past them like every person we envy. Envious of the motion that we so deeply desire, and which, they so casually use to cruise. Reaching. Achieving.

Standing still, unable to stir, watching everyone, everything racing down the same path we would have liked too, but can’t. Because?

I wish I knew the answer, but I am too busy watching them achieve what I could have too.

 

– Shreyas Joshi

( Shy )

 

Photograph by Abhinavanand Singh.PhotoGrid_1493722157777.jpg

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