The shadows of times leave behind a contrail of mist. The
barren mind thinks for the first time and gets out of the panorama of this ruddy
mysterious life. The glamour has eaten up all the surface of glory. This misty
contrail is the only thing left with this barren mind which is trying to be
productive in a world which in habitats the only surviving rational specie of
this universe. May be when the particles of nature were connecting, the only
thing which made a difference was time. Time is the fourth dimension of life.
It is always there at any execution of any process of the space.
I am not a backpacker but sometimes, I feel there is a load I
am responsible of, sometimes I feel I am carrying a whole lot of life on my
back, thoughts, ideas & the super heavy law of survival. As I continue to
breathe I feel as if I am travelling. Perhaps I think this happens with all of
us. All of us are moving, at a pace which is indescribable, like an unplanned plan,
dimensionless with just time around.
So aren’t we backpackers? travelers? hitchhikers? Yes, We
all are.
