It was not before,
The innumerable outings, the adventure trips and the endless journey to the workspace I generally rely on, that my life started settling deeper into the cushion of comfort. But, in the past years or rather the years ahead from those days, that I realised—–me being in a point of life, where things easily get saturated. The same old routine that drives us over our heels until we topple over. So I decided, to capture this world in my childhood fantasy.
And that is when the writer me, met the analyst him. His world was analytical, thriving on statistics and data while my world was just a scratch in those reliable information.
I am a walking contradiction while he is, the surety of life I look upon.
In those days, when I find myself swimming in my whirlpool of words, I see him standing by the door, working his analytical mind dealing with the data, or perhaps predicting the surety of future?
While I see death, he can see the chances of survival. When I think about metaphors he finds phrases to describe appropriately. And, when we both are at edges I find myself falling to the bottom, while he sees himself there waiting for me to fall though—–saving me just in the nick of time.
And thus, we look at the same world with a different perspective, combining the contradictions with certainty.
©Jumbled Letters 2019.