The door and window of my room open to a small yard
The small yard has two corridors on its side
The corridors are covered from one side with trees of shoulder-height.
The trees look like bamboos with narrow leaves around of which flowers have emerged sparsely; they are higher than I
On the other side of the corridors, there are walls and doors; not to forget the windows! Each door has a window of its own
Harmony rules over the whole
My room is on the second corridor. It opens to the small yard
On one end of the small yard, there are chairs and tables spot. Plants pots
The chairs and tables are not utilized, and plants look unquenched yet easy on the eye.
On the other end of the small yard, there’s a hidden room, which has a “staff only” sign on. I don’t know how it’s like or what is there going on, I just see that hotel-staff enter it and come out of
Tonight, four hours after midnight, when solitude was deliciously diluting me up and I was having fun in the world of mine, a sound went off. The sound of a man, not old, not young, talking about something to someone. It came from the hidden room on the end of the small yard
I got annoyed and upset
“WHAT is this sound. At this hour, this time! I’d better warn him off.” I think to myself
I open the door, I intend to go and warn the man for his bad behavior at 4:00, but my ears follow the words he’s voiced and I don’t know what they’d stand for.
“First, familiarize yourself with his tone, then go over and warn him for he talked at top volume over his phone. It’s four and people are in their bed for some repose.” I tell myself and wait at the door
I listen to the voice and I feel that it’s anxious. It feels like he doesn’t want to raise his voice, yet he’s got no options. He’s missing someone. You can say when someone’s missing someone or something, by the way of their talking. It’s kind and anxious, even sharp with edges
I come to my senses. I warn off, not him, but myself since, I am the one who’s sitting still at my place, putting my feet up in silence of space, unaware of what’s going on with him in his pains and distress
“Let him talk. Maybe he’s talking to his mistress from some place far from middle east. How can you go hard on others because you want to be at ease? Let him talk, he’s been working a long day and his heart was missing. Do you understand? Or you only do you and your circumstance
I get back in my room. I listen to him pour out his heart into a tune life calls “love beyond the moon”. That’s the song of life. Life has love and love brings hearts together, hearts get together and life takes them apart, hearts apart miss each other and beat the song of distress, pains and strains. So, do you want to cover your ears to not hear the music of love that life holds dear and then write of its magnificence on your social media for your peers
I go in bed, I open my laptop and write down my head. By now, sleep has made my eyes heavy, yawning my mouth ready for the night to come to an end. As I didn’t clog the way of love, listened to the tune of two hearts’ song, it’s started to sound better, sound well. It doesn’t disturb me like hell. I’m happy I didn’t give in to myself to bring my rage into action. Now I think I’ll sleep better if only cats come to a conclusion!