In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Express Yourself.” An old selfie taken during a cruise in Bosphorus, Turkey, with a hipster filter. And my favourite D90 (which has now retired due to my barbaric nature).
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fireside Chat.” The title of this post and the first answer in this story is taken from a conversation in “Castle” season something. Stuck in my head for ages. And for a good reason, too.
Like a bolt out of the blue, the question startled me. Especially when it came from someone whom I expect to boast about the topic.
I beg your pardon?
I turned to see the young woman looking at me from the couch by the fireplace. She didn’t seem to be drunk (which is good), but on the other hand didn’t seem to be fully awake either (which is… I dunno how to react to this). Early 20s on a whim, I presumed, from the fact that she’s cradling a cup of coffee with rather hazy eyes. In a cheap bed-and-breakfast in the town. At 11 pm. That, and a closed thick novel on the table. She raised her eyebrows and repeated the question.
How do you know you’re in love?
There was a moment of confusion in my head. So I didn’t hear wrong.
For reasons unknown I brushed of the first question a normal person should’ve asked to a stranger with an even stranger question (f*ck it, I’m on holiday). Instead, I took a deep breath and thought for a good five seconds. My jaw dropped a bit but no words got out.
You look lost.
Yes. And what caused that, I wonder? I cleared my throat and walked across the room to sit on the recliner next to her. The smell of good old long black soothed me immediately. Good job on crumbling down my guard. Kind of hard trying to avoid sounding like a total idiot – or worse, a sceptic – to someone who reminded me of that dreamy blonde girl in Harry Potter.
There’s no right answer to it, don’t you think?
She shrugged. I’m not looking for a right answer. I’m looking for any answer.
All songs make sense.
Like… being sappy?
You… think about them all the time?
You have butterflies when you see them.
But my boss has that kind of effect too. Pretty sure it’s not love.
Logic doesn’t work.
What do you mean?
Because you’ll do anything in order to be with them.
Like buying a plane ticket at 4 in the morning just to surprise them with a coffee and toast.
Is that what you did today? How did it turn out?
As expected, not worth it. What about you?
I don’t know.
I don’t know whether I’ve been in love or not.
If I knew, I wouldn’t ask any random people in any random lodging, would I?
How old are you?
You know it’s kind of like a taboo asking it to a girl.
I don’t know you, you don’t know me… Most people would ask for a name.
So you’re not most people.
I’m saying that it’s impossible for someone your age to not boast like you know about the topic more than Shakespeare. That’s what most people do. I grinned as she burst out laughing. Well, at least she’s not mad.
I still think Romeo and Juliet is a screwed-up thing.
Because both of them committed suicide.
Because they can’t live without each other, right? Isn’t that what love is all about?
You don’t think they’re being selfish?
I rolled my eyes. And here I thought you don’t know how it feels to be in love.
It’s technical. Bear with me.
I watched her sip the coffee, still wondering why anyone would have caffeine in the middle of the night when they have nothing to do. Maybe she still had things to do afterward. Maybe she’s just crazy like that. Maybe I was just being judgmental.
Love is… illogical. I stopped for a bit. You’d do things that you normally won’t do. You’d be happier seeing them happy even if you aren’t. You’d hate to see them cry. You’d make decisions so bad you’ll question them later. You’d realise that the overrated song lyrics do make sense. You’d probably suffer, but you’d be happy most of the time.
She chuckled. Being in love brings out the masochism in people, does it?
Why, are you suffering because of someone right now?
He’s dense. I’m proud. That’s the end of it.
Then you’re not in love.
Because logic is still there.
Are you saying being in love makes people stupid?
So you’re being stupid right now.
…you know it’s a taboo saying that to any person you just met.
I don’t know you, you don’t know me. Most people think so, but we’re not most people now, aren’t we?
Well, I’ll be off.
It is kinda late.
See you around?
See you around.
She shot me a smile and stood up, picked up her book and left the common room. I gave a small nod in courtesy. That wasn’t the last time I set eyes on her. That was, however, the last time I set eyes on her without thinking that getting on a plane at 4 am that morning did have its merit – coming to an answer for her very question in the first place.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Back to Life.”
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt:
“Pleased to Meet You.”
Avec le capitaine et moi.
Tick. Tack. Clack.
Fingers dancing on the keyboard.
Q, W, E, R, ,T, Y, U, I, O, P.
A, S, D, F, G, H, J, K, L.
Z, X, C, V, B, N, M.
‘I need nicotine.’
‘I need caffeine.’
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Serenity.”
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly writing challenge: “Ice, Water, Steam.” Wrote in my phone and edited it on the computer. Wasn’t as short as I thought.
Inspired by a real conversation.
And yes I stole the title from Coldplay. Shush.
‘It’s hard to see stars in here.’
Although it is a common complaint in the North part of the city, I looked up anyway. I wonder how he came up with such notion that second of all times – there were quite some numbers twinkling in the pitch black background tonight. The cold breeze told me it won’t be for long, though. I stopped for a second just to avoid falling on my face along the unevenly-paved parking lot and glanced aside to my drinking partner of the night. He kept walking with his eyes fixed on the sky. Sighing, I followed suit.
Finding any idea to counter the tactless remark against my hometown was not supposed to be a hard thing to do. But that time, it was. So I gave up and replied, ‘It’s because of the pollution. You should go the beach.’
He snickered, the Southern accent popping up in his words like every time he drops his guard. ‘You mean like that place I went to last week?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘That place is crap. Or maybe The Pass? The sky is clearer there.’
‘Are there a lot of pretty girls in bikini there?’
‘…it’s in the mountains.’
‘Ah. No then.’
Effing foreigners. Is that the only thing you look for in my precious city?
I found myself ransacking my memories for any place to simply observe stars but nothing came up. The lights in the lamp-posts flickered as if trying to slam my thoughts down to the ground. I stopped at my track, realising that I have never waste precious seconds to look up and appreciate mother nature – too busy, as the last hundred excuses said. Then I just stared at his back for a while, thinking about this small self-discovery.
Maybe it’s the booze. Maybe it’s me being enlightened. Maybe it’s that son of a gun who enjoys torturing my mental health, simultaneously being someone-whom-I-want-to-drink-with and someone-who-makes-me-want-to-drink. Maybe it’s because I just got myself a simple goal for this new year: to look for stars. For whichever reason it was, a grin crept across my face as I continued walking along the lines of cars. In the middle of the night. Under the rarely-seen stars. Excited.
No matter how much I hate to admit it, I have to give some credits to this frustrating being who keeps accidentally changing me into a different person.
Bit by bit.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Shadowed.”