Flight to the city!
And the eyes opened because of the sudden jerk felt inside. The flight goes through some disturbances because of the heavy rainfall in the city. The tiny water droplets on the windows of the airplane depicted an artist trying to mark the empty canvas with its deeper desire. i.e to recreate. People around were dozing off. When I looked outside the window, all I found were clouds. Dark and Light. White and Black. The sky above the cloud was clear. Blue and white. The horizon was yellowish in color. And I felt is there a horizon really? What exactly happens at the horizon? And the words of the not-so-famous iconoclast Mr. U.G Krishnamurti came in front of me. Not his words actually but what he said to someone who noted it down and published it in a book which in turn I read and stored in my memory. So that storage of letting us call it 'Page' (Read my post ' Low roar of the magician' for more information on 'Page') came up in front when I watched the horizon....