Swaying

I’m not in hiding.

There are doors to the left, one of which will take me to the past. There is a road on the right, which goes straight ahead to freedom and bliss.

The choice seems obvious. But what are these currents passing through, highlighting alphabets from a script? It feels as if the past beckons me – there is a story hidden somewhere.

Am I the only person left alive on this desolate street? 

Why have I been spared by the killers?

Am I destined to be the key – to a not-so-distant past?

The future can wait.


14 thoughts on “Swaying

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