From the 60s

We were out on the streets as soon as the sun had set. Me and her, and the beauty that she carried along with her, all the time.

I do not remember how, and I cannot be practical about what good was it doing to my life, but we agreed to go and see a movie. I do not remember what movie it was or where were we. However, I remember us: me, her, and the beauty, her beauty, that she carried with her all the time. Hurrying through the streets, my hand in hers; oh, how skilfully did she lead me – like life leads to death.

I cannot describe her appearance. However, I remember her face, wearing a graceful smile, like the mountains wearing the mist.

Here, there is not much to be said about me. I was led by her. I do not know where, perhaps to a movie theatre.

I willingly followed her, now and then looking around. I stumbled and tripped, on stones and words, and all she did was smile and nod. I did not mind it, no, not at all, for I was happy with her, and the beauty that she carried along with her all the time.

“You look like a Bollywood actress from the 60s,” I said, looking at her.

Her hair, which she had somehow managed to tie around the back of her head, had now hung down in elegant waves up to a decent length. Through it, I could see her, her smile, and the beauty that she carried with her all the time.

She did not reply, and we kept on moving; that moment, to me, felt like eternity.

 

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