He reminds me of the afternoons during summer from my childhood when my grandmother used to tell me stories of a place where he grew up. He reminds me of the scarlet clouds, the light evening breeze and the sunsets that we used to watch, while sitting on the terrace of our home. I don't remember the last time, I have seen the sun set behind those clouds, every evening I witness the scarlet hues touch the grey window pane just beside my desk. The scarlet hues that fade away in the neon city lights are just like her smile which I have seen from a distance and felt like a childhood memory coming back to life.
He reminds me of a small New Year Greeting Card that I had once received from a friend with whom I have lost all my connection. The card had a picture of a snow capped mountain on it, a perfect picture that we usually imagine full of sunshine and happiness. I have never been to a hill station until I visited it somedays back in her stories. The songs that he sang, the places that he had told me about was exactly like the beautiful card which I had buried somewhere deep inside my heart. His tales reminded me of a wish which I had kept safely, tucked inside a vast ocean of my unfulfilled desires and dreams and his voice helped me find the one that I needed.
He reminds me of a song that had made me survive my darkest moments. The lyrics are just like his eyes, the way they spoke about becoming who I am and not who I want to be, to wake up and rewrite the stories once more and to listen to what it is now and not what was supposed to be. He reminds me of the freedom that I seek, of the rights that I desire for and of the world that should be there for everyone. He reminds me of the revolution that we must undertake within ourselves.
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