It's one of those days, when it's cold but not too cold, just perfectly perfect. Cold, light breezy evenings; slightly cloudy sky; chirping of crickets; evening prayers at the mosque in the distance; faint earthy scent of rain.
Moonlight, but no moon. Just that perfect glaze of soft white light from the cloudy sky.
Takes me back to some place I've always been waiting at.
That beautiful bitter-sweet nostalgia of childhood, probably.
Childhood, mindlessly playing away the evenings, carefree. Just a bunch of friends running in the streets, pure bliss. Perfect nostalgia. It's a beautiful feeling, nostalgia.
Brings upon that beautiful glowing smile on your face, thinking about them good ol' days.
That one small moment feels so supreme,
so eternal, so beautiful;
beautiful, bulletproof bliss.
That memory, that melancholy, that's not too sad, but just enough to take you to that warm, cozy place; where you just want to be.
That bittersweet flavor of tinted memories,
Words fail gloriously to describe moments such as these. Those subtle feelings, the emotions, the complexities of human psyche, are beyond practical expression.
Those pure energies are beyond the limits of rational interpretation. There lie things beyond reasoning, beyond understanding, that breathe air into these moments of light heartedness. Into feeling, rather than thinking. Into complex, rather than order. Into abstract,rather than structure.