Every indulgence before I rush to the stairs and mentally register the latch clicking against the typical thick, dark, wooden door is background noise. My day begins when I breathe in the misty morning air. It is one of those things I wonder about from time to time – the morning smell and the idea of bottling this mysterious concoction as a personal treasure and maybe pass it on to someone from the generations to come who could peep into this window of today I cherish so much.

I like this time I spend with myself. My thoughts match with my stride and sometimes unconsciously to the pace of the music I plug into. Fellow joggers occasionally wish but I selfishly continue to phase off into my bubble. It’s interesting what you can see from there you know. You can see the trees around you stretch, or sometimes just standing like a big, green, bouquet ignored collectively by the city. You can see the rooftops cry and a thirsty squirrel thankful for whatever makes them roofs cry. You can almost hear the lone blade of grass scream with gusto for its life as the wind blows at it mirthlessly. The wind walks with me – shoulder to shoulder – I like this interference. Sometimes you can even witness the game of reflections between the puddles and a piece of yellow and orange and sometimes purple glow from different corners around you. You can even smell the colours in the flowers. I hopelessly gave up on admiring their colours after I breathed the variety on display.

Before I head back, I sit below this secret spot below a tree away from human eyes and listen to the daily news the birds bring me. It’s usually just a monologue but sometimes there is a comical, musical flight of whimsy you cannot stop smiling about.

It seems like everything walks with me. Silence, incidental music, intentional melodrama of my brain, random musings about the mysteries of life – like who paints the grass every single day.

Maybe it’s the city, maybe it’s nature. You can either choose to find reasons to decipher them or indulge in them.