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by Rollo
Rated: E · Monologue · Biographical · #2272096
Places I go when things around me become chaotic.
Our whole life is like french cinema; in most parts, nothing happens. However, it is also like stars and moon, in the boredom of darkness, nonlinear, scattered lights, like highlights. So, we jump to those highlights in vast of nothingness or darkness. Those are our safe places to be.
I grew up in a picturesque village. A place where no one would care about the future. A home beside a river. A few days before monsoons, we children used to build our treehouse. We needed dried tree branches, long banana leaves, and raw jute fibre. We were in groups and were competitive about whose house was most comfortable, visually pleasant and more spacious. It had taken some time before we finished. And when we were, we would wait till rain. One fine day, rain would come, and we would leave our true home to our own built small home. Rain would dance on the river, and the beauty enchanted us. At least, I was mesmerised. No one ever taught me to enjoy beauty; nature forced me, just like it forced the human race thousands of years ago, to discover the sense of visual beauty.
In my head, I have those exquisite events, scenarios, and landscapes, and I keep playing them over and over. It's been years since I last visited that place because I am from somewhere where people love to breed, and overbreeding ruined everything. I do not want to lose my memories. The only thing I have, and I am not even sure that all of them are true or my mind created a few of them just for comfort.
Life has been unkind for a long, long time. So, I go to those places just closing my eyes.
My safe place, my paradise.
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