The feeling of touching the windows of the closed shops at midnight to peek at the things we desire, and then running away home to cry in bed at night.
The feeling of looking in a mirror and seeing yourself from years and years ago, the reminder of a certain moment, a certain period in our life.
The indistinguishable faces of the taxi drivers we've payed over and over to get to that feeling as their eyes pierce through us as we lip sync through the journey to newer places with same goosebumps.
The first time we touched our own lips and felt like they held the key to how the world perceived us, the feeling of timidity of superficiality.
The feeling of letting the phone cord just hang, and actually hang up on people and their words.
The feeling of wearing the first pair of shoes we brought on our own free choice, running to our friends to show them the object that would determine the aesthetic evolution of our whole life.
I think we grow up and yearn for the nascent-ness of our being. Our tastes, our feelings, our vision, our skin, our reflexes, they all have evolved from a certain first-ness. Its that first-ness we crave. The origin. The home...something we can never ever get to again.
So this is where acceptance comes in.
We will only be hindering our own growth into this world when we hold on to the feelings we knew to have felt. New sounds. New brick walls to touch. New whispers. New smells. New tastes.
So I guess we come together, collect our things but we let go...
, by Haseeb Sultan