Solitude

I feel like going on a trek tonight. There are several places in my mind. In the the evening I wanted to stomp on snow and make my way up a mountain. Feel the cold winds numb my fingers and turn my nails blue. Breathe the winter. Freeze time in that pristine whiteness that would surround me. But now, as the moon appears behind the pitch blackness, I am reminded of my midnight walk along the deep woods from university to the monument. It was a mass trek, with close to a hundred odd people. We still managed to lose ourselves.

I remember laughing till tears rolled out as we cooked up stories of having been diverted by a strange man in a white t-shirt, who we morphed to be a ghost. In the dead of the night, a bunch of us were stranded. We had gone around and come around. Or so we thought. In the darkness, all the trees looked cloned, all the branches scratched and all the paths were sparkling with foliage streamed moonlight. It was past Cindrella's time. We awaited a fairy godmother to come show us the light. A light different from the one that was spooking us all.

A man hailed from afar. Our light. The different one. Having sung songs of the past to keep ourselves entertained, we moved ahead after what seemed an hour. Closer to the voice, back on track. It took our group much longer to reach. We took routes the others hadn't. We trailed heights that others saw from below. We did reach, but much delayed. The others were on their way back. Some made fun of us, but we gloated at having passed shrubs and trees that they hadn't, graveyards that they hadn't, experienced haunt as they hadn't. We always were good story tellers.

It was a full moon night. The trek had lasted for about 5 hours. We reached the arms of our cozy rooms in taxis at the break of dawn. Exhausted. We dreamt. Of what, I don't remember. Must have been something pleasant for we slept with smiles pasted on our faces.

Memories have a snowball effect. But the snowball I want right now is the one I'll make for myself. I want my snow tonight and I am not in a mood to share it. Not this time. At least for a while.

My Lee Filters swatch book is lying next to me. I have spent the day painstakingly looking at each filter against the sunlit window. I am still looking at them through the white tubelight. I am not a fan of white light. I like to add colours, maybe thats why I enjoy lighting. I want to rig a spot light climbing up the ladder, focus it at stage centre, put the colour I like the most at the moment and sit under it with my book.

Let the hall be empty.

Let them not know I am here.

Let them not know I exist.

Let them not know I am lit.