Always, the same dream.
Always, the same sequence of events.
Always, leaves me with a bitter sweet ache.
Always, leaves me yearning for more.
it is the chime of the bells from the tall prayer tower.
it is the smell of Jasmine flowers outside the prayer tower.
is the canopy of trees in a long alley, towards the end of the alley, are my two favorite buildings, a lending library hosting books with the withered, yellow pages and a new book cafe.
Always, my comfort getaway.
is the once in a year art festival, for which I go with my friend and buy my favorite trinkets and taste all the mouth watering snacks.
my favorite, the drenching monsoon, where my mother builds paper boats patiently with a smile, to fulfill my demands.
I trot the globe to survive but I am alive in this dream.