So much thinking, so much time away, away from writing. Thinking about writing, how I want to put it out. Thinking about writing ideas.
And lately, "You haven't written anything in a while, Chandni."
"Well, it makes sense, with so much practicality taking over? Haven't you been enjoying it?"
It did make sense, and I respected it. Until today. Till sometime back. A flutter in my chest. Two Bumble chats that I enjoyed. Two people. Why does it rekindle me this way? Why do I feel poetic? Existence is a mystery, components of it are, components of me are.
A visual if I wanted to give it one: citrusy! Tiny, sparsely collected, drops of citrus on the tongue. The olfactory landscape bursts too, you see. And the tactile? Awakened. Look at the awakened tongue! A beginning of a movement. A movement into dance. Look at its feminine twirls! :)
"Did you break your hiding, Chandni? Did you give yourself up, for a moment, here?!"
"Well, let them find me."
