Apparently my inexperience to soliloquize is creating some confusion here. Perhaps I never planned how it should work out, or the sequence I shall post. If it helps, It is a forced recollection; a forgotten past, I am trying to revive to take my first stab at fictional or otherwise creative writing. I tried to express my visit years ago to that place. My recollection & thus my arrangement in the post must be sporadically out of track, and does not follow a planned systematic pattern. Intention was to write something with a specific beginning & PERHAPS an end, but everything else is random recollections, each on its own. However, I would be glad to clear any muzziness, if any of you'ld care. *********************---------------------------------********************** .............And the best part of meeting him was, I got his 2 stroke engine to ride, for as long as I was in the city, since he had graduated to a nice four wheeler. ..................................>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Armed to go wherever I pleased to, I wanted to visit some places just for the heck of it. I wanted to feel what I felt years ago. I wanted to just sit there for a while and remember those moments in silence, perhaps grieving and pay my respect, one final mourning to my past, our past. It was due, and I wanted to face the reality on its face; finally. Without running, hiding & ignoring, but being there at that very place and yet knowing, it is all right. Life is still beautiful & colorful. Past memories are good to remember once in a while and it's ok. But past is good where it belongs; a nostalgia, a painfully beautiful memories at silent nights. And I still have 'miles to go' & someday 'happily ever after' will be mine. Well somewhere closer to it anyways. But isn't it wonderful to have memories of your yore days, reminisce, and smile ? Not wanting to change a bit. Feeling that dull ache in your chest on those 'white nights', peculiar, unlike those ordinary nights. Yes those special nights, where I remembered, laughed, smiled & felt the moistness in my eyes. It's been years since I last lived those 'white nights'. Try as I may, I fail to feel anything remotely agnate. As I realize now, even memories are long dead. They are not alive anymore. Only some torn pages, an erased phrases in my mind, which I try to arrange into verses in my beautiful poignant poetry of love. And I force myself to remember more..... I went to my 'last' apartment where we had spent so many days. I had a top floor apartment on that building. As I entered the colony, I could see some cloths on the terrace & a small balcony which was right off the room. The big French window was open that lead to the balcony. I wanted to go in there, see if they had removed innumerable pictures on each side of the French window, a metal frame of unique abstract art I bought in the city, a beautiful frame with John Lenon's "Imagine" cliche, which still sounds so intriguing. I wondered if that big comfy chair was still in the terrace, where we had spent countless hours. I wanted to see those walls, feel the aura of the past just for a moment. My desperation grew with each passing moments, to see that place, feel those moments and remember.. in silence. I wanted to relive my past in my imagination. The more I thought about it, the more restless I became. After I parked under the building, I slowly took the steps up to my apartment. The stairs seemed to know me. I could feel that I would see one of my friends coming downstairs and would tell me that 'she' is waiting for me in the apartment. I felt perhaps I should say hello to one of my ex- neighbors who lived on the third floor. And yeah that small boy, barely 3 perhaps. How he would come out of the apartment and talk with us, even though he hardly could express. But I had started to understand few of the signs; noises that he made. I sometimes used to give him some candies or wafers. His mother would always be quick to take him in. She sometimes exchanged few words. I felt sorry for the boy. It pained me to see that he was mentally challenged. Alas I decided against it. It had been long and I felt kind of awkward. Perhaps I should have said hello. As I write this I hope and pray for that boy. Maybe he doesn't have any metal handicap now. Maybe he can now play soccer with other neighboring kids without his mom watching over. And for once he doesn't have to fight himself to express what he wants. He smiled a lot.