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Letter to a friend
Dear Friend,
As I am writing you this letter, the sun is setting and sea shores are watching my feet, to and fro. Not much later the sunlight will vanish and the moonlight will take over the sky.
But the funny part is that the sun will never really vanish, it will just disappears to let the moon have its own moment to shine.
How tragic it must be to always be to be so in love with each other but too different to exist side by side.
So is our friendship, my dear friend.
I am truely sorry that I couldn't be present at your painting exhibition, it wasn't possible to be there at such short notice. But I did see the pictures, and believe me I couldn't be more proud of you.
Each small detail, every stroke of colour was filled with passion, and I felt it, my friend, aside from perfection and beauty, I felt what you would've felt while painting it.
Love, emotions and imperfections.
As an artist I would say, it felt real to me.
And I am not even boasting when I say that I am not surprised. I knew you'd be great, from the moment I saw you draw that picture of mine, and I must say I really did loved that.
I have it treasured with me, and I hadn't told you then but it is the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me.
At the moment, I am spending my time traveling, exploring and writing.
After all, the world, my friend, is a journey, the deeper you go, the wider it gets.
I am really delighted to let you know that my first book is being published by the end of next month.
I would be extremely pleased if you would be here them, but given your busy schedules I would understand if you can't make it.
My father, at last agreed to visit a doctor in the city, the doctor analyzed his situation and informed that it really was getting critical. He stictly told him to give fishing a rest and take bed rest. But dad being dad, how could he accept something, a city folk told him to do? But after a series of serious discussion, he finally let down his guard.
When I told him about my book being published, he merely nodded and closed his eyes. If I say that it didn't shook my hope, it would be a lie.
But that night when I was on the way of his room to ask whether he required something, he was sitting on his chair holding Mom's picture whipering to her, how their daughter has grown to be a fine young woman on whom she would've been proud, had she been here with us, he said that I was a much better person than he could ever be, and God must have been looking favourably on him when he decided to bless him with me.
And I know it was not the truth. I knew I was not and could never be able to fit his shoe for he is my father, he might have overrated a few things, but the fact that he actually did felt this way warmed up my heard. He was busy in his little conversation so I didn't dared to interrupt him, but instead I made my way to my own room, I sat at the floor next to the window where the moon sparked, where my sister and mom looked at me in the form of stars and I just kept staring, and willed myself to believe that I would not forget to keep loving those who are still around, even though I know that one day everything is going to end, and I laid their till my vision went blurry with my own tears, and this time I let them flow.
The sky has gone dark, my squirrel Kaush is frantically pacing up and down on my arm, perhaps she has got the idea that to whom the letter is being written to maybe she's trying to say hello or something else in a language yet unknown to mankind.
Anyway, the sky is covered in a beautiful pattern of stars and moon. And if you are reading it at night, which I am almost totally sure you are, just raise your head and see, somewhere I am looking at it too.
With love,
Yours Truely.
As I am writing you this letter, the sun is setting and sea shores are watching my feet, to and fro. Not much later the sunlight will vanish and the moonlight will take over the sky.
But the funny part is that the sun will never really vanish, it will just disappears to let the moon have its own moment to shine.
How tragic it must be to always be to be so in love with each other but too different to exist side by side.
So is our friendship, my dear friend.
I am truely sorry that I couldn't be present at your painting exhibition, it wasn't possible to be there at such short notice. But I did see the pictures, and believe me I couldn't be more proud of you.
Each small detail, every stroke of colour was filled with passion, and I felt it, my friend, aside from perfection and beauty, I felt what you would've felt while painting it.
Love, emotions and imperfections.
As an artist I would say, it felt real to me.
And I am not even boasting when I say that I am not surprised. I knew you'd be great, from the moment I saw you draw that picture of mine, and I must say I really did loved that.
I have it treasured with me, and I hadn't told you then but it is the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me.
At the moment, I am spending my time traveling, exploring and writing.
After all, the world, my friend, is a journey, the deeper you go, the wider it gets.
I am really delighted to let you know that my first book is being published by the end of next month.
I would be extremely pleased if you would be here them, but given your busy schedules I would understand if you can't make it.
My father, at last agreed to visit a doctor in the city, the doctor analyzed his situation and informed that it really was getting critical. He stictly told him to give fishing a rest and take bed rest. But dad being dad, how could he accept something, a city folk told him to do? But after a series of serious discussion, he finally let down his guard.
When I told him about my book being published, he merely nodded and closed his eyes. If I say that it didn't shook my hope, it would be a lie.
But that night when I was on the way of his room to ask whether he required something, he was sitting on his chair holding Mom's picture whipering to her, how their daughter has grown to be a fine young woman on whom she would've been proud, had she been here with us, he said that I was a much better person than he could ever be, and God must have been looking favourably on him when he decided to bless him with me.
And I know it was not the truth. I knew I was not and could never be able to fit his shoe for he is my father, he might have overrated a few things, but the fact that he actually did felt this way warmed up my heard. He was busy in his little conversation so I didn't dared to interrupt him, but instead I made my way to my own room, I sat at the floor next to the window where the moon sparked, where my sister and mom looked at me in the form of stars and I just kept staring, and willed myself to believe that I would not forget to keep loving those who are still around, even though I know that one day everything is going to end, and I laid their till my vision went blurry with my own tears, and this time I let them flow.
The sky has gone dark, my squirrel Kaush is frantically pacing up and down on my arm, perhaps she has got the idea that to whom the letter is being written to maybe she's trying to say hello or something else in a language yet unknown to mankind.
Anyway, the sky is covered in a beautiful pattern of stars and moon. And if you are reading it at night, which I am almost totally sure you are, just raise your head and see, somewhere I am looking at it too.
With love,
Yours Truely.
