Thursday, May 02, 2013

2007 : Older

Going back to a house where you spent some of your growing up years, is always a little unusual. Its almost similar to going to the neighbourhood speakeasy, having a few shots of Gin and then the walls begin to talk to you.

In the house, which was once a home to you, the walls most definitely do. Not just the walls, but curtains, the bathroom fixtures, all of them have a shared memory and a story to reminiscence.

As you keep walking around the house, bumping into things, you brain tunes itself to some very unexpected stories.

The house is now old, quaint and has quite a few basic things missing from “my” definition of a home….and yet, strangely enough, I continue to love it.

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1 comment:

Ditto said...

The poet in you is still alive. Bring out more of the poetry and less of the taub is what we say!!!

Lovely post....almost almost makes one look at the 'house' with a slow motion camera and a backdrop of love and longing :-)