A Romantic Vision

A Sold Soul

Awan resumed his fashion of taunting me for the worst of my habits. I resumed somehow wholesomely smiling in his company, though we both were largely occupied with thoughts; fewer words; we assumed we were better.

I mounted on a heap of red mud gathered in the garden. Sat on the top and admired the spectacle of Sidratul Muntaha.

He smiled from the kitchen window. I feel it soothing my soul.

This new man at hand only had a few things attached to him.
His modulated somewhat gruff voice often evoke interest, he was becoming an invaluable asset to this evaluation in me.

He once offended me by asking me to learn to speak, I never did ask for assistance but acquired him slowly.

Now, this man with black hair and lively eyes lined with glasses surrounded by tiredness but seeming happy or pretending to be happy became my muse.

He speaks and I am replenished by his talks, his passionate ideals of life and then infuriated as how easily he can challenge the designation of society and not be burdened by it.

He and I both care about the house, we take turns as he says it.

Rather than being working here, he is blurring the boundaries of him as a helper, taking in pleasure in being at home and making this house homely.

I smile somedays and then return to the blue door, the ever-welcoming space assigned to the wretched and weak. He says I am sentimental. I suppose I affirm.

"But it is unnatural to not feel," he said and then he pulled his sleeves to his elbows "to feel and more so vibrantly is a rare art that few know to use"

"Vibrantly?"

"Like, you think too much. You feel too much but on the same page you don't know much" he had lost me at this point but he smiled "you have resources but you do not know how to use it"

"May I know what resources I Own!" I inquired.

"The art of speaking, of language. An age of expression. Individualism, a personalized style of emotion"

I was thrilled to hear such passionate phrases but I knew they were empty.

"Nobody promised me such pleasant ownership" I tucked my hair back.

"Cogito ergo sum" he established and then translated, "I think, therefore I am"

"Alright, then teach me" I challenged his dark eyes which never changed under any light but sparkled with immense knowledge.

"You are signing up for a brittle education" he smirked and tilted his head to one side.

"Ego te protocol" I challenged him.

This day was unlikely, I sat before a learned man who on papers was less than me but overflowing with lessons from life.

He returned from the kitchen and I pulled myself off the variety of time we had in the past week.

Collecting the mud in my hand I made small mountains of it.

"Miss have found your new passion it seems" he chuckles.

"I was wondering Awan what if I am stuck here forever and as the only friend I have here is you, you for some consequence as well leave this place; how am I to survive here?"
I confessed the fear lurking between in my daydream.

"Well, it would feel similar to how I feel when you talk about leaving every day" the muscles of his face moved but he did not smile.

"Then I must never leave. After all the city haunts me. People are occupied with much that I would ever do to them" I sank.