So I let the doors & windows open to the dust storm in a tribute to Rorshach, Moriarty and the Joker. And what did I realize in the aftermath? It's not watching movies, it's not reading books that does it. It's Norah Jones playing in the air, while I clean up every inch of my home, turn every brass statuette on the table to its perfect angle, separate the sequinned tops from the silks in the wardrobe, pluck away Murakami from Steinbeck and put each in the company of its namesake, and fill up all twelve egg troughs in the fridge, that leads to the most bliss. Perhaps, 'cause organizing and putting things together gives you an illusion (?) of creating. It puts the mind out of the restlessness that comes with wanting to absorb too much too soon. The future still looms...but organizing makes you realize the beauty of the now and here. Because when putting things together, everything lies so open and raw in front of you. It makes you enjoy the near ephemeral truth of the crease on your cheek that, for now, eases when your smile smoothens out. In your future much-coveted, the crease would've stopped paying rent to the smiles and instead bought that place on your cheek. Beautiful in its own time, but let's wait for it.

P.S: That said, I do not withdraw my salutation from the glorious prospects of dreamy wanderlust, into the past or the future. ...or even wafting into an unknown pocket of the now, riding in that car called imagination that should never need a garage.