She sat cross legged, dressed in black with a dark violet scarf draped around her, that smelt of stories and people or may be it smelt of people and their stories. It was more of a stench..a stench of memories.
Her eyes searched the burnt horizon...searched in lost clouds and smokey ships, with a gold necklace waiting to adorn her from behind.
Her dark violet scarf danced away to glory while the wind garnished the air with salt.
A small curve on her lips lit the lamps of her dark brown eyes...a glittering ray of joy rested there while the rest of herself gleamed.
It was a quiet moment .... Every other person or thing was just a far and distant sound brushed aside by the waltzing wind.
It was............ The mambo of a memory.
A long gone memory..but a happy one. A thought that leaped in from time to time, a sort of a rewind...a flashback. A rather beautiful moment to live and relive.
Into the dark blue skies she pierced through with mind and soul hoping to enrich her collection and make more memories.
The present is so important for the future past that one does not realise the value of creation. Creating moments that make the past future beautiful. A beauty that was once beheld lied beholden until the end of the beholder.
She blinked, smiled and found another puff of another cloud to stare at.
Knowing what she beheld and knowing that what she beheld was pure beauty of a single moment. . . Passed or yet to come.
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