Take me down a road that I have never walked before. Sweep me through alleys that had never been trodden by tourists. Let me see people who are not accustomed to perform for them. Let me see the life in an unknown land in its unspoilt state where the natives go about their daily tasks without acknowledging the fact that tourists are there to observe them.
Make me sit by an unknown fountain and listen to your adventures, all the while, ignoring the stares of the onlookers. I will laugh at your globetrotting madness while envying your limitless freedom. I will force you to teach me the way to be a survivor instead of a rebel who goes against every rule set by the world. I will try stealing from you the theory of travelling light and living out of suitcase.
Take me to the far away past when history is synonymous with myth. I want to touch the the high walls of Troy before their collapse, see the tears of Andromache at the death of Hektor and Penelope’s gaze of never-dying hope, awaiting the return of Odysseus. Show me the island of Thera before the most destructive volcanic eruption that destroyed an entire civilization. Let me see the relaxing lifestyles of its people who thought they had forever and a day to live. Let me indulge in their unsophisticated food; not the much hyped Santorini sundried tomatoes and cucumbers that taste like water-melon when they are ripe.
Let’s sit on the steps of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi and talk about how prophesies could not stop war from ravaging great cities. When you try to call it all a myth, I will try to drive the point that even the history could not stop people from committing the same mistake over and again let alone prophesies uttered in unknown languages and lost in translation.
Take me through books and unwritten epilogues of the stories I keep reading for the thousandth time. A tour to Pemberley or a surprise visit to the recovering Mr. Rochester might not do any harm. I can be your guide for a moment and take you around the orangeries and topiaries, dining halls and haunted staircases. Don’t ask me how I know my way around so well- they will just happen to be in the exact location I painted them to be in my imagination.
Take me to see ‘The Magic Flute’ at Opéra National de Paris on a winter night. Though you know I don’t fare well in the snowy weather, I will promise not to sneeze or cough while the opera is staged. I will hold my breath not because I am scared of you; but for the simple of joy of being stung by the magical notes.
Sweep me through the streets of Prague, the fairytale city I keep dreaming to set my feet on. Perhaps, one more trip to Giza before you drag me home. Teach me how to live like a traveller; to see the beauty of everything without being possessive and greedy to bring Taj Mahal or the Great Wall home. Teach me to be detached while being attached to the maps and travelling bag. Teach me to meet the horizon and come home looking for the comforts of my small bed and worn-out blanket.
Make me sit by an unknown fountain and listen to your adventures, all the while, ignoring the stares of the onlookers. I will laugh at your globetrotting madness while envying your limitless freedom. I will force you to teach me the way to be a survivor instead of a rebel who goes against every rule set by the world. I will try stealing from you the theory of travelling light and living out of suitcase.
Take me to the far away past when history is synonymous with myth. I want to touch the the high walls of Troy before their collapse, see the tears of Andromache at the death of Hektor and Penelope’s gaze of never-dying hope, awaiting the return of Odysseus. Show me the island of Thera before the most destructive volcanic eruption that destroyed an entire civilization. Let me see the relaxing lifestyles of its people who thought they had forever and a day to live. Let me indulge in their unsophisticated food; not the much hyped Santorini sundried tomatoes and cucumbers that taste like water-melon when they are ripe.
Let’s sit on the steps of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi and talk about how prophesies could not stop war from ravaging great cities. When you try to call it all a myth, I will try to drive the point that even the history could not stop people from committing the same mistake over and again let alone prophesies uttered in unknown languages and lost in translation.
Take me through books and unwritten epilogues of the stories I keep reading for the thousandth time. A tour to Pemberley or a surprise visit to the recovering Mr. Rochester might not do any harm. I can be your guide for a moment and take you around the orangeries and topiaries, dining halls and haunted staircases. Don’t ask me how I know my way around so well- they will just happen to be in the exact location I painted them to be in my imagination.
Take me to see ‘The Magic Flute’ at Opéra National de Paris on a winter night. Though you know I don’t fare well in the snowy weather, I will promise not to sneeze or cough while the opera is staged. I will hold my breath not because I am scared of you; but for the simple of joy of being stung by the magical notes.
Sweep me through the streets of Prague, the fairytale city I keep dreaming to set my feet on. Perhaps, one more trip to Giza before you drag me home. Teach me how to live like a traveller; to see the beauty of everything without being possessive and greedy to bring Taj Mahal or the Great Wall home. Teach me to be detached while being attached to the maps and travelling bag. Teach me to meet the horizon and come home looking for the comforts of my small bed and worn-out blanket.
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