Him and Her

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To her, he was a beautifully treasured memory carefully stored and revisited time and time again, added to and deleted from as days flew by. To him,she was just a thought at the back of his mind always there floating in the midst of the chaos which filled his head. Ever present yet somehow blanketed over by more pressing matters

She spent her days and nights revisiting the memories, smiling over them and cherishing them with all her heart wondering just how time would play her this time. He casually glided over her funny chatters on odd occasions, chiding himself for the sacred few smiles her recollection brought to his face on long lonesome summer nights.

Her days were filled with the buzz of the busy city and the warmth of his memories. The happiness she had thought so little of once upon a time and the confusion and ache of rushed goodbyes.His days were filled with the chatter and gossip of his mates, the work which got him through the hours, the gloom of slowly ticking seconds and emptiness of a soul which refused to take a leap of faith, too afraid to dare to dream.

Together they moved on in time, living their separate lives, thinking often but doing little, simply passing through the midst of all that surrounded them. In a world inhabited by millions they were simply HIM and HER..

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nadia nawaz

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Unleashing mysteries-Lost within the euphoria of the writer’s world

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A thousand thoughts are born, some sustaining the long night while others seem to diminish as abruptly as they are created. Succumbing to a nothingness, they vaporize into oblivion like the smoke from the wick of a blown out candle as it vanishes into thin air. Continue reading

Memories buried deep

She looked out across the horizon, her thoughts a million miles away. The sun, in all its glory shone down upon the clear water, its rays bouncing off of it, making it shimmer and dance like a sprinkling of pixie dust. Despite the presence of the sun, the wind and cold were relentless and unyielding.

Across the runway; stretched out beyond the water’s edge, a plane’s engine began to hum. She watched as it slowly began to move across the runway, gradually gathering speed until its wheels lifted and it rose. Higher and higher it moved, and still she watched.

Soon the wheels began to fold inward and as it made its ascent into the blue morning sky; she watched it until it disappeared from sight, a tiny dot of nothingness, soon swallowed by the magnificence of the sky. She felt the cold wind sting her eyes, forcing the tears from them and she gathered her jacket tightly around her.

The coffee she had brought out with her helped warm her chilled hands, sore and red from the cold. She was alone out there with her thoughts, clinging to the steel bars watching the water and planes as they taxied across the runway, slowly ascending and descending between regular intervals.

As she stood there, her mind was processing a million thoughts simultaneously, all somehow entwined. She liked to come here and think, to dream. She loved the way the water never looked the same, how it seemed to reflect her mood. Sometimes calm, clear and beautiful to watch, while at other times, reckless, intense and furious. The ferocity of the wind and waves didn’t scare her. Neither did she mind the cold much, but she could feel her toes going stiff, her eyes stinging with each gust of wind that blew across her face.

Time seemed to be at a standstill while she stood there, reminiscing old times and thinking of the future.

She wondered about the uncertainty of life and how everything seemed to always have a mind of its own. She wondered why people were so unpredictable and the oddest ways in which they slowly gathered importance in our lives. But most of all she thought of moments long gone and the people who meant so much to her. She missed them with all her heart, but as she stood there alone, she knew that life would figure out things and somehow it would all work out in the end.

A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it. – Jean De La Fontaine

Don’t be dismayed at good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.-Richard Bach