lessons embedded in events

... the most precious lessons of all.

I only talk to her so much now.

Little carriages of conversation creeping along over interstates of time.

I like to think it was only ever cut short because I lobbied for it.

She took out the stud ages ago, but I like to pretend it's still there.

A night in autumn. Dreamy and indolent autumn. Innumerable heart-shaped leaves dislodged themselves from their homes, spinning and dancing in the air before falling elegantly onto the floor, forming a red carpet of sorts for her. From the window of the Palace, you could barely descry her silhouette.

Like a page out of one of Lawrence’s picaresque novels.

She spun in and out of conversations like a Sufi high priest whirling in the throes of ecstatic communion with the divine. Holding court with God, if you will.

This was a free spirit. And how could she not be? She was the life and soul of every party she graced. Eyes were transfixed on her :every cup she kissed, every twitch she made, every twirl she perfected. Lustful eyes, inspired eyes, envious eyes, playful eyes, eyes filled with admiration.

Not that she sought this attention. It was granted to her, just as Life was granted to us.

The groom will be older than her, and he'll look at her the same way he looks at his Ferrari. Prince Charming with a black sports car instead of a white stallion.

She was always more material than feel, style more than substance.

My friends would look me in the eye, with “I know how you feel” written all over their foreheads.

And I’d have to be content with having once held her heart for a year. 12 months which meant next to nothing to her, but the sun, the moon, the stars and everything in between for me.

Never try to cage a free spirit.