Longing is not how it used to be When fantasies are no longer how they used to be In their place are superfluous memories Of a life that was far from exemplary Looking back now only makes it gloomy Mourning a life that you wished for with the makeshift roomie The sleepless nights of wanting those keep you awake No, it’s not work, oh c’mon, for god sake The one that you remember, yes, the erstwhile Serve only as a reminder of when life was worthwhile Longing is not how it used to be So, little dove, try harder, maybe with a glee It was a paradox, that didn’t come with a slip of guarantee
It’s been years today to the first time we bro hugged, First time since we sat across tables freezing and bugged, First time since I noticed the color of your eyes, First time since I stole a sigh, First time since you switched places on the road, First time since we shared the dense smoke, First time since our jittery first nudge, First time since the Italian was a waste buck, First time since I decided on my cure, First time since all firsts pure, Here we are, today, in many of our firsts, Like the gold flames, at a pinnacle!
When you are in a memoir territory, emotions become dominant at large. So much so, that once while reviewing a memoir, a New York Times Editor, (also a reviewer, a playwright, a critic, etc.) Neil Genzlinger, looked at the audience and started by saying, “A moment of silence, please, for the lost art of shutting up.”
The irony of the Catalan architect, Gaudi was such that his art was rammed and dreams crushed under a tram with a day full of perplexing geniuses who declared him an ordinary beggar that could not be nursed back from death till reality struck and alas, Barcelona lost the only man who managed to make this city worth visually reminiscent! But let’s suppose, he was an ordinary man and not one word more, was he not worth the same effort? Or maybe among the bohemian vibe and the cosmopolitan street affair, there isn’t enough time for Tomfoolery. Either you manage to imprint your name on the most extraordinary architecture of the city, the Roman Catholic Basilica of the Holy Family (Sagrada Familia) as the symbol of faith, love and hope or die an ordinary man, I mean it’s not like you architected historical marvels to deserve any of that, oh cmon!
Travel more and you will know every corner, every lane, every city, every country is writing its own story book! So was Madrid.
Gran via over the years has seen the history-changing on its roads, the graffiti being made over and over again, the artifacts getting older and more valuable with their outdated glimmer and growing worth. The massive doors wearing out! The 100 yrs old street that has hustled through time holds so many memories hard to look away from, oh the number of heartbreaks it must have witnessed, the number of love stories that might have started here, the number of people that may never come back, the number of people that never left, the millions and millions of footsteps and each with a story! What are the chances ‘You and I’ sat on the same street, in the same cafe, stopped by to see the same window, passed the same fragrance of baguettes, just what are the chances!
It feels so overwhelming to be a part of a street that started collecting stories a century ago when ‘You and I’ did not exist, our stories hadn’t even started, but Gran Via stayed put for you to reach here and add another page to its storybook (and maybe one to yours too)!
Among a lot of other things, traveling comes with a clause of distance! Distance from what you love, who you love, your routine, food, lanes, lifestyle and else. It’ll tell you what you don’t like for sure, more than what you do. All in all, do it! Experience it, it’ll basket you with a million things you might not know about yourself!!