Sometimes colours speak to her. Through their various shades they brought back many bygone moments. Yellow brought shades of a cheerily lit home of a newly married couple, happy and vibrant, thinking of bringing their own little one to this hut of theirs. Blue — moods of warmth between sheets of cosy ness between parents. Purple brought back those mellowed dusks when a small girl waited for her father to return from office at the doorstep counting moments, until she heard the soft clink of the gate. Brown brought back her mother’s flower beds in their garden of Eden. And then there were more colours, but these stayed beyond the small years of her life.

Looking back at old times, old conversations, sometimes she would only think of those colours and words would come plummeting through them, like sunshine through foliage. Green, orange and various shades of the sun would surely bring back the shades of her parents’ youth lost far away in another city, in another country. So when she finally went there she tried to catch hold of the colours, their exact shade so that she could be in that lost time.

Time, one wonders, can create and dissolve, can make and mar, bridging the gaps between moments, and more and more emptiness. Through the untired glances one charts out more and more into the abysmal depths trying to map out, fathom out something worth scouring out.

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