Home

I’m home now, and all I want is silence.

Silence that reminds me of all that I felt yesterday, when I looked at that waterfall. The water rushed into narrow crevices, and the bubbles seemed to coalesce right before it was sucked into the vast expanse of the lake. They were lovely bubbles because they reminded me of how people are: how they come from different places and garner just for that brief moment before they are thrown into an unending void of the Future. And as they collide with that edge, they change colour from blue or red or whatever they fancy reflecting, into a pure white enragement that is froth.

Even such simple things in nature connive such paradoxes. It is these intricacies that entangle my coherence. It is the gushing sound of the water, playing in my head over and over, that shushes me and reminds me of the beauty of the unspoken.

I felt like I was home then.

And in the silence of this instant, I am home even now.