1.19am.
Bilal joins me once again in one our silly late night conversations…well late
night for me that is.
Yesterday
evening, I was sat in a cab on the way back from town when the red of the
crimson sky caught my eye. Don’t know if anyone else found it as amazing but
right at that point, it struck me that I’ve not seen a crimson sunset since
summer last year. The crimson that seemed to burn the horizons of the city as it
dimmed was simply beautiful. I say simply because it was a beautiful sight in
the simplest way. Although in a curious manner I ask, why is it that
breathtaking beauty as such always seem to bear a shroud of melancholy? Maybe
it’s just me.
After
just about a million years not going to cinema’s all of a sudden I’m there
about twice in a month. Not a big number but it is for me I reckon.
Ah and
Bilal tells me that our lottery would’ve nabbed us a solid 10K IF he actually
went out to buy it. Sigh… there goes easy money. Funny though that out of the
5 numbers I gave him 4 got picked. And to think I was telling myself how is
would it be possible for them to even pick numbers that I’ve put down in a
certain order? And as for the 5th number – we missed the jackpot by
1. Gut wrenching? More perhaps for Bilal who was there watching it.
Ok tired now… and again funnily I find myself thinking about the little French toddler with ‘little miss muffet’ ringlets I sat next to on the LRT. Does he even realise how beautiful he is? Innocence I guess is a form of beauty on it’s own. So pure, so true.
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