Where is the world that we thought existed in the deep corners of our imagination?
Lost prose, faded polaroid, dusty books, rusty film.
It lived, it existed in our thoughts and dreams, it was a part of our lonely curriculum of words, lines and colour.
That world was made up of bits of memories, wants and Nostalgia.
It happened, it is gone, buried. In a stash of smiles, laughter, smirks or tears.
Nostalgia is a pain equal to a low jab into the stomach, leaving you gasping for breath.
Nostalgia is redundant, it is reprehensible and worse than dreams.
Dreams give you hope, Nostalgia brings yearning.
We yearn for that perfect world which was supposed to exist but doesn’t.
Is there an antidote, a cure, an answer to that desire?
But if that world came alive today, will you cherish it? Will you stop complaining?
Will you accept its flaws or worse will you stop finding flaws in it?
O Human, you wish for a perfect existence but you the epitome of imperfections, you will never let it exist; for you O unhappy one, you will, in a selfish stride, not tend to it and find solace in the gloom of its ashes!
