Impromptu is Life. Impromptu this happiness lying in old books. In straddling through breezy streets on a rainy evening. Burying the predictability of darkness in warm coffee mugs, sipped with careful madness.
Somebody plans. Plans with his "You know..." and takes life on a new road of gibberish. To play along is to be part of the contagion. The contagion of jokes and ache-inducing giggles. We start our boat. Its a motor-boat mind you, leading to the inevitable, crazy ride.
I found myself walking in the Rain.'Cause I liked the rains, my companion ever-so-wisely added. Coffee shop was the island we kept hunting for. And Lo! on reaching we made the grandest entry imaginable- book-laden, rain-drenched, enlightened souls!
We lived the spell. We weaved the spell. We ate, drank (coffee mind you) and made merry!
The charm of random living, of being with people who had matched you step-by-step in bonkerishness!
The books are precious. Even more so now. Old books with old pages, carrying the smell of a moist evening. Of bitter brew, turned sweet...and how! :P
1 comment:
when coffee serves poetry and dreams together...and the rains harness them too...impromptu turns into serendipity of having found mirth...ripped out from the lives of people who once owned the books and christened them with love...books heavier with memories...of them then and us now...
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