417

Four hundred and seventeen days and four hundred and seventeen memories. I save every bit of joyful moment behind my ears. Four hundred and seventeen sounds more like the amount of times I listened to jazz while drinking coffee. Not black bitter coffee, perhaps a latté..? the fancy kind with fancy flavours. Four hundred and seventeen times breathing in and out. Exhausted doesn’t define what I feel… Four-one-seven ? Maybe that’s just the number written on my classroom door…

Four hundred and seventeen dollars spent on cosmetics. Pampering ourselves for the sake of weird fashion or perhaps to attract doubtfully jealous stares… Four hundred and seventeen hours of education. I may know a few languages but I sure do NOT know what to say right when everything sounds so wrong… Four hundred and seventeen eye contacts with four hundred and seventeen strangers. Connection is lost or never found through those stares. DISCONNECTED written all over my forehead… Why connect with people when you know the connection will fade away right after four hundred and seventeen days??

Four hundred and seventeen maybes and what ifs… So many reasons to look behind when I’m supposed to be walking ahead. Last four hundred and seventeen seconds for us to catch the train to a place called future…

Four hundred and seventeen strokes of paint brush on a canvas. You can’t paint every emotion at once but you can show how passion reflects with love. I wonder what Van Gogh felt after painting the starry night… Four hundred and seventeen paintings that aren’t painted yet. Will and power are the core of existence. One must pursue what they can and will. I cease to exist in a world filled with beautifully decorated lies….

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One thought on “417

  1. Oh, it’s been quite some time since I saw you last. Thanks for stopping by and reminding me to do the same.

    Great post, looking forward to seeing more of you in my reader again!
    Be well! 😉

    Liked by 1 person

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