Hazed Black and Orange.
12 am. 2008
The wide roads of Islamabad seemed wider, lack of gridlock at midnight. Driving at sixty, on the Margalla Road. Driver seat's window opened, letting in the feeling of winter that's about to grasp our lives. The air was cold.
Passing, P.A.F Finishing school, Bahria, Agha Shahi, all blurred by the velocity of the car. A mixture of orangish street light with the blackened sky of the night. Flashes of red and green, the traffic lights. Serene Islamabad.
Winter is about to come. It's already taken over the raat, soon it will conquer the afternoon's and the mornings.
Goose bumps, the uncomfortable feeling.
6.30-ish pm. 2005
Parallel to Margalla road. Somewhere around the same time, three years ago. A song, not so famous. A pink ipod mini.
You listening to a song, she observing the passing cars and their headlights. Talking to herself, wondering if your thinking of her, even though your just beside her. A warm hand holds hers. Fixating it rightly into the grooves of her hands. They fit, perfectly. She turns from the world and into your eyes' she gazes. You gaze some more, back into hers. You see through her.
Interrupted by a phone call, you pick it. Its your friend. She turns back, scared, recognizing the beginning.
She can't forget.
The wide roads of Islamabad seemed wider, lack of gridlock at midnight. Driving at sixty, on the Margalla Road. Driver seat's window opened, letting in the feeling of winter that's about to grasp our lives. The air was cold.
Passing, P.A.F Finishing school, Bahria, Agha Shahi, all blurred by the velocity of the car. A mixture of orangish street light with the blackened sky of the night. Flashes of red and green, the traffic lights. Serene Islamabad.
Winter is about to come. It's already taken over the raat, soon it will conquer the afternoon's and the mornings.
Goose bumps, the uncomfortable feeling.
6.30-ish pm. 2005
Parallel to Margalla road. Somewhere around the same time, three years ago. A song, not so famous. A pink ipod mini.
You listening to a song, she observing the passing cars and their headlights. Talking to herself, wondering if your thinking of her, even though your just beside her. A warm hand holds hers. Fixating it rightly into the grooves of her hands. They fit, perfectly. She turns from the world and into your eyes' she gazes. You gaze some more, back into hers. You see through her.
Interrupted by a phone call, you pick it. Its your friend. She turns back, scared, recognizing the beginning.
She can't forget.
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