The Fall

If you fall and the fall resembles the fall of Macchu Picchu…  

The dust around you, the dust in you tells you the truth. Listen carefully. They blame the dreariness on the modern technology, but just open your eyes to see who is not moving. City streets shine blood-red and dead empty; finding fault is out of fashion now. Hiding is a fad, not believing is a fad, not feeling is a fad. You don’t check the time any more, the clock reflects grime all around. The war is also over, the hunt has ended, panic seeped within is now quelled and happily so. The dead ones are dying and the living ones are dying. You know nothing stays forever, yet you hope for a forever. Stale thoughts to no thoughts, you look outside the window, you imagine what it will be like to jump, to bring an end.

If you fall and the fall resembles the fall of Macchu Picchu, you will rise back.

5W, 1H and a question mark.

If you go through ‘Heights of Macchu Picchu’ by Pablo Neruda, you’ll know. If you believe, you’ll know.

Machu Picchu, Peru

( Heights Of Macchu Picchu translated by John Felstiner – )