When the orange evening meets the blue of the sky
My heart leaps a thousand miles all at once.
I free my hair and let it run wild along with my heart
My skin tingles in the warmth,
And my heart becomes a fluttering butterfly.
I stand there, there somewhere in the horizon
I whisper to the passing wind to take me along to a distant land,
Where I could cage this scene in my vision and never blink.
The wind stops dead and whispers back, " come along!"
I pack my bags , I hire a caravan,
I leave back a thousand memories as I sail for a thousand more.
I hold onto a few, I let go a lot more.
I blot the yellowing pages as I travel places.
The world seems awake , life seems beautiful
And I open my eyes and long for this dream,
A gypsy in me dreams of it with open eyes!
"Read between the lines", I heard our professor say. We were in midst of a Victorian text. I looked at her point blank. She had spoken about something which I had no clue about. "Ma'am, would you please elaborate? ", I tried framing this sentence in my mind but my introverted self overpowered my inquisitive soul like everytime. I hopelessly waited for an explanation. Ma'am started explaining about how beyond the surface meaning of any written text, there lay a wide plethora of meaning which wasn't explicitly stated. She talked about finding a void between the written words and our imagination, that void which shapes our interpretation. That explanation opened doors to my perception of reading a text. It wasn't that I had never considered about the possibilities of meanings that lay coated in words until then, but, what perhaps I lacked was to look for that void where I questioned the layers of meaning, where I put myself in those layers of wo...
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