My short interval in Paris for a period of 5 days resumed as I took a train from Geneva, all the way to his abode of love.
Train journeys are paralytic for me, they remind me of how much time I have left with my illusions,
Not much really for we are just blinks of dust,
Poof! And you’re gone, your parents, loved ones and relatives will dine on the next Sunday, raise a toast to you and the religious ones will arrange scented flowers on your photographs.
The train ride was comfortable, I was reading ‘The Almanac of Naval Ravikant’ wherein he talks about philosophy, wealth-building and intelligence - right at that moment, there was a halt, the train had slowed down at a random station, it was in the middle of nowhere.
This moment was strange, my eyes glistened, this station that was located amidst ‘nowhere’ parked itself in one of the most beautiful French villages I have seen.
I have seen the sun setting plenty of times, and I have watched the sky darken from an orangish hue to a dark, sunken void-like screen, but this majesty was my first - Perception is a funny thing, it takes photonic moments for anything beguiling and pleasurable to convert it into a nectar-like image in your mind, seconds, nanoseconds is all it takes for this nervous system to experience random splurges of bliss when exposed to the wonder of nature - these are moments reserved for the fortunate.
I held my book to page 93, spluttering my spit in the form of a bookmark - I’m afraid I was out of them. These eyes were fixated on the angelic meadow in front of me, a sight that no book could steal - no matter how intellectually appeasing it might be.
“If I die, bury me under that tree and use those thick branches to make a swing for the pesky little kids”, I thought.
The grandeur of the sight turned my mind to philosophical ends that I was afraid of addressing - Beauty.
Isn’t it true that Solitude is never chosen, it descends when the individual is subdued within himself, that moment of forgetfulness,
At that moment when the one who is the thinker, forgets that he is thinking, something within himself is liberated, it is this magic of these pastures that remain unknown to the world around me.
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