nighthawksbyedwardhopper

{Painting : Nighthawks, 1942, by Edward Hopper that portrays people sitting in a downtown diner late at night. It is not only Hopper’s most famous painting on Urban loneliness, but also one of the most recognizable in American art. It is currently in the collection of the Art Institute of Chicago} 

‘When I like anyone I don’t even like dancing. It’s sweeter to be alone’ – Josephine to Dudley Knowleton {Josephine, A woman with Past- a short story by F.Scott Fitzgerald}

 

A quick note to someone : The bright colored curtains are drawn. The breakfast is getting ready in the kitchen. The day beyond the tall and thick Jasmine vine with flowers is striving hard to be the hottest day for this week and its efforts towards that, certainly, are blooming. I have no option but to venture out on such a hot day to de-stress and rejuvenate my senses. That reminds me of something that was thrown at me casually, across the dinner table last night, by my friend, ‘‘you know what, we both need to add some excitement to our lives’. His statement left me unsettled and busy in hiding a streak of anger that rushed across my face. I was angry that he failed to observe the sense of comfort and the gush of happiness that I display, uninhibited,  whenever I take a pause at what you said, what you write, how you criticize me. He, like many, does not know that there is a comfort when one feels very strongly about an interaction that does not flaunt a physique, and a tangible format of conversations blended with flirtatious glances/gestures that’s usually indulged in by men and women . People are allowed to seek comfort and order in their thoughts about someone who they have not met/who they may not like to meet, as the idea of being in love with that someone or the idea of that person who they are in love with is far more longingly compelling than having someone in life who one can meet/talk to everyday….that intrigue element in some town, standing near a window thinking what to say or how to criticize or how to pull across a thin layer of silence for a while. The thoughts woven around someone,  I feel, are far more attractive than the source, i.e. the real someone. But the world stuck in some well defined and religiously followed life-relationships-patterns does not have the ability to understand this unqiue skillful move of falling back on the comfort & strength of one’s thoughts about someone… living somewhere with a fixed address!

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