Filling Time
[ Urbana-Champaign 2019 ]
I’m on the bus, heading to my next destination. A girl with a blue backpack lounges on the seat across from me, scrolling on her phone. Never taking her eyes off the device, she occasionally sips on strongly brewed coffee. Brown oxford shoes come into my vision as an elderly man, clad sharply in a suit, sits to my left, glancing at his leather wrist watch anxiously. Another student to my right has her black beanie pulled over her eyes, loud music bursting through her white earbuds.
I make a mental list of the day’s activities, as crafting to-do lists help calibrate my intentions. Soon, I reach my destination as the bus lurches to a stop.
I hop off, immediately shoving my hands in my pockets as the cold air embraces me like a friend. Walking across the street, I try to remember the list I was making earlier. I start the list once again as I walk on the paved sidewalk, to eventually scribe in my notebook. There are few things more satisfying than striking off a task with a black ink pen.
So adamant on making lists, but when the time arrives, the unexpected can happen in which my initial plans and itemized tasks are tossed to the wind, and my muscle of adaptability enjoys a workout in the metaphorical self-development gym. The skeleton of the list remains intact, to provide a ghost of a plan, a compass that guides.
Despite inevitable entropy, I make lists anyway, everywhere I go. Others scroll, check their watch, and get lost in music. We all need something to pass the time. Time we never get back. ◐
Clarity in Clouds
[ Seoul 2021 ]
Water pours gently from above as I stroll unhurriedly under the softly glowing street lights of a beautiful place. Others wear long raincoats and wield umbrellas, moving with direction and purpose. With no destination but the city itself, I wander. I depend on my black coat though it does not matter to me if it impermeable or not. In fact, I seek the rain, mesmerized of how it shines in dark night like diamonds falling from the great gray clouds.
I analyze my steps, venturing into puddles of infinite depth, occasionally stopping to observe the ripples produced by the constant rain. My reflection in the puddles is surprisingly clear as it sloshes. I take a moment to kneel down and really look. There is a color to my cheeks and flicker in my eyes that take me back to who I am, at the core. I resume meandering.
Though it is raining, it does not feel sad or lethargic. Taking a deep breath in, it is refreshing. While I am here for the first time, I don’t feel like a newcomer but rather a frequent visitor, a resident, a detailed engraving of a well established hall.
Here, the lights that shine in the night are not dim, but burn with a soft, glowing passion. The darkness does not feel burdened to comfort me here, because I find peace in the city’s pebbled walkways and elaborate architecture, and carry a light within. The city’s calm energy courses through my veins, empowering me.
I revel in this enchanting place as rain drops collect on my eyelashes and run down my face when I blink. How I wish these rain drops to cling to my name and remember me. ◐
— Saamia Bukhari
Really love this one!