Slim Vogue

I miss the kaleidoscopic blur of the stations.

The smell of the dust deep under.

The thrill of going up the escalators…

Wishing to see you first before you see me…

Morning London.

And London at night…

Early rays of light on our faces

Flashing lights of the night cabs…

The sleek Canary Wharf.

The majestic Hammersmith Bridge.

The long walk.

Cliff-hangers of conversations

Reading in between the lines…

Hushed voices.

Fingers through your hair.

The smiles.

The gazes.

The sweet champaign kisses.

The salty tequila bites.

Us.

The Moet

The Bollinger

Broken ice cubes under our bare feet

The bitter Red

The kitchen desk

…Gasping for air…

Long nights, that betray us with the first rays of the sun…

Closed blinds.

Open blinds.

Hangovers.

Awkward too-silent mornings.

Coffee.

Each other.

And more coffee…

How could there be an album worth of mental pictures in my head?

And I hate reminiscing… But that’s the only thing I’ve been doing…

Slim Vogue

Radiohead on repeat…

And very soon we’ll be walking on different pavements, crossing different roads, open different doors, smile to different people. And because we hate good-byes, we rush into them. Torture each other by prolonging it…

And we won’t be able to hold hands anymore, living off the magic of the sleek digital wizard, that has become more sacred than the book of Bible…

April, 2016

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