Imagination Factory

A star twinkles far away. She – who doesn’t have a name – climbs the last step and carefully pulls herself up. Catching her breath, she gathers her knees and lets out a long sigh into the night. There is no air around. She is breathing in the light. And her eyes blink simultaneously as her chest rises with the breath. Her fingers explore the star and it feels soft. Similar perhaps to sitting on a cloud. The soft base cushions her, fitting her curves and angles as if it is made for her. As if she is a part of the star and the star is a part of her. There is a mellow darkness around her. Remnants of the light from other stars, galaxies and universes casting a soft glow in the otherwise uninterrupted night. It is not really a night, because there is no day here. No sun rises. No sun sets. Time is still. And that mellow darkness envelops her like a warm blanket. She doesn’t have a name and if she slipped and fell from the star, she would be in the fall for eternity. This her...

The sun rays on the ground in front of Sara captured the buildings in front of her and reflected back to a past which refused to leave. And then they moved up to conquer the white clouds with blush pink. In that pink haze, Sara continued to stare at the ground in front of her. She was sitting on a park bench. Slowly the footsteps of joggers and walkers trickled to nothing. Still she continued to stare at the ground beneath. It was difficult to tell what was going on in her mind as she blankly stared ahead. She blinked only to moisten her eyes which didn't require that much moistening because occasional tears trickled down a paved path.  I watch this from the high branch of a tree beside her bench. There's a bag beside her - not a shoulder bag, but a plastic bag with things inside it. I can see the outline of books and some trinket shines in the fading light. hooot... hooot..!   Sara was unable to breathe, as if she was forgetting to breathe while sorting her thoughts....

Tara's eyes are like no other - they are brown and when you look close you can see many galaxies in them. But one never gets long to stare into her eyes. She looks away. The only way you can do that is if you are air and look while she stares into space, if you become space. Then you can see that there are many worlds in these galaxies. Worlds which have the climate that we have, people like we have, destruction like we have, imperfection like we have, beauty like we are. All these worlds are erased each time Tara looks away from your gaze while you are decoding her galaxies. Because every time she blinks, something is born and something dies.    Tara's soul is like everyone else's - bruised and broken, engulfed with this living, trying to come up like the swimmer in the middle of the ocean for a breath. In these half-hurried, panicky breaths, her soul gazes at the sun. The lure of something greater than it is, the lure of some day climbing out of all this water, ...