Transition

Warmth. 

That's what I feel right now. 

I am sitting in my balcony, in my comfortable white chair. There's a cup of peppermint tea on the table. And I stare into the scenery. 

The sky resembles the ocean today. The sky's colour makes it look like a poem about philosophy. The birds are swimming and returning to their abodes. There's an occasional aeroplane floating through the sky, on its way to its destination. The rumble of its engine, when it moves through the clouds, makes it feel like the clouds are producing this sound. The naked eye cannot see the litter. You'll have to dig deep within the sky to know what litters it. As I said, the sky resembles the ocean today. 

A warm breeze passes by, and I take it as an indication to change my observation. 

I always wonder, which is the perfect brown to fill the mountains on my canvas? Do I want it to be a deep brown or a light brown or another brown? But, will the mountains like it, if I choose to fill it with a certain colour? So, I look to the mountains asking for guidance. They didn't say much. They just showed me. But oh! I look to my left and this mountain is showing me something else! And alas, I look to the right and it's something different than the previous two. Which, then, is the right colour? 

A honk from a truck brings me back to the feeling beneath my feet: the uneven feeling of the paint on the wall. I take this as an indication to change my observation. 

The power of machinery is that if you stand very close to it, it is intimidating. But you stand away from it, they look like you could pick them up with your thumb and index finger. But I guess I am specifically talking about vehicles. The way they are moving, symmetrically in one direction, they look so unintimidating. But if I was to stand in front of these same vehicles right now... well, that wouldn't go too well now, would it? But from here, I just wish to pick them up and mischievously change their direction. That would be so amusing! The confusion of the driver! Oh, I laugh just imagining it. 

A laugh in the distance makes me bend over the railing to look at the source. This is my transition to something else. 

The laughter of people feels equivalent to the warmth of the weather. I can't see the source, but I can hear their laughter. Maybe it could be like the music that I hear while I am walking through a hall in a big mansion. It sounds so nice, it draws you towards it. Maybe I could get drawn by this laughter to join them and feel the simplicity of laughing. But it's just a thought. I just slip a smile and sit back on my white chair. 

Ding-Dong! 

It was nice chatting with you. But the bark of my dog and the meow of my cat indicates that there is someone outside that I would like to open my door for. 

It's a surprise! 

I don't know who is at the door.