Contrary to what I used to believe, a lot of things were happening to me of late. In fact, I was so overwhelmed by these happenings that I fumbled for words to express them.
How possibly could I have expressed in words the emptyness I felt while walking back home on a full-moon evening? Or how could I describe what I felt when a familiar smell from yesteryears wafted from somewhere, evoking nostalgia? Or the effortless drift I experienced while I lay awake late into the silent night? Or the subtle pleasure I felt while reading a certain passage in a book? Or the longing for a familiar touch? Or the craving for some long-forgotten taste? Or the irrepressable desire to talk to someone whose face is all hazy now?
It was difficult to translate them in words. And I did not want them to be written just for the sake of writing. So, I waited for the apt words to appear. Words which would flow effortlessly to create something out of my jumbled up thoughts. But, I later realized that I was waiting in vain. Words don't come to those who don't pursue them.
And this post is proof enough that I have failed to pursue them.