The sun bid farewell. But the streets demanded an encore — a night full of streetlamps aglow. The whole area, transitioned into darkness, faded into tangerine lights.

The chill evening wind drifted melodiously as he sat down on one of the street’s park benches. He had a heavy heart. Probably a messed-up decision to leave his hometown for some place he wouldn’t know what could be coming. Or probably find a breath of fresh air in the open wide from trouble– who knows? Who knows what this man could have gone through in life at this point.

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his duffel coat as the chills of early December began to settle in. At this point, he was confused. He actually had something in mind all along. What have I done wrong? was what he questioned this whole time.

He had fallen. Unfortunately.

Falling once or twice was quaint enough for him. But his last was never enough to cover up his exit wounds. Internal bleeding held him astounded for so long. It had been with him for months – almost leading him to a psychotic episode. Tragic, yes.

For him, it was the hardest. It felt like his world crashed between glaciers of ice. Or his entire universe plunged him into the heart of the deepest bottom. His breath at the bottom of the ocean floor was at its critical. It felt no worse than that as he believed.

He was too preoccupied. He believed it was all his fault. The one to him who was like sunshine was now lost. Forever.

So he had nothing else more to do. Ending his life was not a choice, as the strong individual he was somehow. He had to just plunge into thought about everything to internalize all of the moments captured. The ones captured in his memorabilia – a camera (he actually brought it along with him).

His stimulus was to look into his camera  for 70% of his time was focused on recollecting those memories. But his alter-ego had him shove it off for it was useless. True that he can’t bring back those memories in real life.

It was a couple of hours past seven as his timepiece declared. After that dramatic episode, he waited. Waited for his life to be decluttered. He wanted to start again. Fresh.

And there she goes. Walking along the streets of Vancouver to capture the aesthetic panorama. The resolution was just as it should be. And her life was no less than that of a mere child who wanted nothing more but to see the world. She had set aside all her success to just be someone who takes memories to remember all that has been. Ebbing and flowing, height and depth, up and down — it wouldn’t matter to her. For all that she knew was that it was something worth to keep and to be treasured for the next fifty years. And in every trial and suffering was a Flash of hope found.

He was dazed for a moment or so. She was so familiar.

What could have been in her that led him to recapitulate all the forgotten memories in his past life? It was by then that he knew he had not remembered. He wanted to throw it out of his memory but it was recycled. Something he wished that he would not have deleted in mind at all.

He was just staring at her. Probably something between them could. Or probably not. He’d just have to wait and see.

And it was a night in Stanley Park.

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