Unicorns can fly ,
Unicorns have magical powers
and unicorns are in my mind ,
That is what my seven year old scribbled between soft parallel lines on the 19th. My mind wafted in to heroes and villains . Do they also exist only in one's mind.
What do you do with a dead hero and what do you do with a dead villain.
You lay to rest ,both , I recon. And move on.
Much happened back at home , past week. People have rejoiced , grieved , sighed of relief and wrote .
When the tarmac was kissed , I confess I felt my eyes cloud, heart a bit weighty . That's the surrealist in me . I am a sucker for that kind of things , I guess it is the midlife. My heart sheds a tear for the people , swarming in to the camps. Yet I am vague whether those people are glad to escape or whether they are dejected with their plight. I think I know how they feel. Think, being the focus word here.
I saw the photos of the dead man. And I felt confused . Honestly I never thought I'll see the day. Yet…
I assume every one of us went through this emotional roller-coaster to some extent during the past seven days . Happy ,Sad and a little confused. .
Miles away. Across seas . I could clearly hear the cheers and the sighs. My mind is all tanglse about , "how did"s and "what next"s. That throbbing feeling to do "something", has occupied my mind.
I close my eyes and only pray for us to get it right this time.