To
The girl with epic earrings
College never really began until my eyes had swiveled a full hundred and eighty degrees and fastened upon that bench-third from the first row. It seemed as if it would be a good place to start a new life. It’s the bench that led me to you. It led me to beginnings.
It led to ‘us’.
Asking for the exact bit of conversation with which such bonds begin, is always an impossibility. It’s absurd. I wouldn’t have an answer, neither would you. In fact, why should we create those boundaries? Let’s not pose unanswerable questions like these-”God, when you thought of a pine tree, how did you think of a star?”. (And that’s Angela Morgan for you, because poetry is love.)
Some things just are. We might as well let them be.
I’ve learned that such is the order of things and the universe conspires thus. And you, with your hair gently fluttering in the wind, the smug eyeliner and round ‘bindi’, like a dot on the forehead. You’ve taught me to love the written word just a little bit more. Your tiny gestures when you talk about poetry, they make your eyes light up. You do find meaning in every new word. And you, my dear, do flow like poetry itself.
There is a definite quality about your imperfect laughter, and you talk just the way you do. But you don’t realise how you do surprise those of us watching you. You sound like a fool and an intellectual, all at once. I’m certain that there’s someone out there who held you on a very high pedestal once. And just maybe, you punctured that notion with your laughter. You don’t see it but you’ve become two different people.
There’s something magical about both sides-one immersed in laughter, the other solemn and serious. Like the actor that you are, you aspire to be infinite. You seem to be and you are, different people embodied in one person. And I enjoy being with each side of you.
I write this letter to a wondrous girl and to this new, blossoming friendship of ours.
Yours truly
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