I stop and gaze outside. My sight passes through the window beside me, and it is my portal to a greater world outside, a world breathing with a breath that most surely comes from a source. Our micro worlds surrounded by dreams, aspirations, presumptions and even fears and are translated into things tangibles such as houses, money, guitars, balls, reports, assets, booze, blues and who knows what else that has overridden us a lot of times . We may have thought we were much bigger than the life outside.
Zildjian is a name that only rings among drummers, and a few. "Newly hatched blue face" will receive blank stares from us but will give a knee jerk to breeders and cockfighters. A Grumbacher surely sounds like a member of the Third Reich, but mere mention of it turn painters' heads anytime.
The point is, we are almost always get caught, sunk, and buried underneath a pile of words and figures and trivia and everything in terabytes, much of which, are relatively relevant only to the recipient.
I look again and see the glorious sun, washing the streets in its remaining three hours or so, before we humans call it a day. That good old sun does not even care if it is relevant or not, it just simply is. One moment, we ride atop the so called popularity via number of likes, follows and comments. Next moment, the windows beckon us into a more real world - a harsh world, a dying imperfect earth, but nevertheless beautiful, because it is REAL.
No, you can't minimize these windows, or click-drag them - or even resize them at the flick of a finger. But I'd have them anytime.
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