I live in a little corner, where I have the luxury to live by my own rules, on my own conditions, on my own set of rights and wrongs. Here in this little place, I have my own garden where pastel thoughts bloom. On my wrist is a watch in which I have my own brand of time. It flows at a rhythmic pace of my thoughts. There is a little door that opens to exotic places from my past which I visit often and stay there as long as I like.
The books I have read over the years, the films I have watched. They hug a wall ready to spring a quote or two whenever I need them or flash a scene when I yearn to revisit one of my favorite movies.
The tastes and aromas hang in air, fresh as they were when I met them first. Here I still feel the traces of people I loved. I can smell the bouquet of fragrances of their skin, of their words, of their thoughts, of their ways of loving me
It is a comfort to have an ever-growing world of my own within this world and a leisure to be able to spend time in it. I keep deriving experiences from the outer world and keep collecting them in my corner.
So used to I am to this place that, where ever I go, I carry my corner with me…