Recycle

REVISIT. This guy’s three-letter name popped in the plate tag of a parked car. He had opened, he had covered wild spaces. But this was different. The last time, the name was searched along walks, amidst moving vehicles. This time, it mystifyingly flashed and was contentedly motionless on the repeated street.

REPEAT. This street has been meandered multiple times. This time, it was morning. The earphones were plugged conveniently, blasting a soundtrack from a recently adored movie.

RECYCLE. Are our days recycled from our previous struggles? What mess have they enmeshed in our stories? Will we ever let go?

REPEAT. This street has been meandered multiple times. The last time, it was just this morning. This time, it was evening. There were no earphones. There was just the upbeat urban noise and the bright moon.

REMEMBER. This moon was magically framed in night clouds. The last time, it brought hope for the melancholic days. This time, it brought renewal and peace. This is all there is. And that was all that was. Stripped down, I was heading home.

RENEW. This home is a witness to the favorite routine on the balcony. The two books, the pot of green tea, the pen and paper, they are starry and harmonious, ready to be consumed.