I look out of my window and there’s a fragment of world in front of me. A part of it so vast, and so greater than my own existence. The sun rises and sets from one window to other. Travelling from one side to another, changing everything it touches. These lazy evenings and pale sunlight make me feel alive as if I’ve never lived. There’s not a single thing I would change about the present moment that I’m living, but there are million things that I’m missing which aren’t there. The view is the same, it never changes and it has never changed for ages and yet somehow losing myself in a view this familiar and mundane isn’t difficult. It’s strange I think, to be a part of everything and everyone’s life that you’ve ever know and yet not actually be associated with them. I could feel everyone’s existence up from here. The way they’re constantly moving on, running from what’s stopping them. Running towards what they desperately want, so that they could survive. Up from this window, I could feel thousands of emotions just by looking at their faces. None of them are mine for them, but every bit of it is theirs. Is this what they call to overly wonder about things that aren’t necessary? Is this what they call to be emphatic? I don’t know and I don’t care about carrying a burden of worries and praying for every single person who passes by me. I’ll do the same for the rest of my life and wish a shore to the one stranded on in sea. “all the world’s a stage, men and women are the players” then who’ll be the spectator? The stars and the breeze? Looking at us from far away and giggling at our misery. I think an artist might be among them. An artist glancing around everywhere looking for a slightest trace of raw emotion and inspiration. Another artist drowning herself in the sound of everything that exist, so she could feel every vibration and every sound of her existence. A writer losing his sight in thin air, building up words with a voice no one heard.

We’re all sitting by the side of such window, escaping a little from present and stealing a glance at all the wide array of possibilities that lay in front of us. We’re all unique but we all want the same. I think of those who never experienced such a feeling of wondering and never looked out of the box; because they were trying to be sane or rational. How peaceful and dull their lives would be. I’d envy them but my envy is wasted. These windows are nothing but a prison of want to a dreamer’s soul. I could see the entire world throbbing, alive, fiercely proving its existence while I’m still falling silent to my own heartbeat.