I reckon I've been the closest with the trees, the sky, the wind and sunsets more than I have ever been to any human. It was time for one such day, that belonged to just the world and I.
Boston Harbor Walk.
What a vortex of amusement the ocean is. So mighty, so calm, so unpredictable, so certain and yet uncertain. Sometimes, just like us. As a brilliant approval for the day in my head, this one particular Seagull that I try to capture through my lens looks at me, stares into my soul, as if it knew me, who I was, what bothered me and several other secrets/thoughts that I assumed were only mine. A plethora of sonder around me. In ships, cruises, children & their tantrums, the dogs & their curiosity, me and my beautiful day.
It was one of the warmest day of my time in Boston. So much, that there was sweat in that East country of absolute cold winters. And? And, there was the rain. Dripping out of nowhere. Boston does a Bangalore at times, isn't it?
As it gets darker, I remember a certain river that caught my interest. The Mystic River. Quite obvious, isn't it? I set out to find the Mystic river, with my companion as the Maps, the Microsoft Maps, mind it. After several minutes of doubting my plan, halfway through home, I decide to go anyway. Already lost to a good enough level, I might as well do some more of what I put myself through, right? After fighting with the setting sun to hold on until I reach the intended to get the best view of the setting sun, an hour of walking with several epitomes of ache in my leg and the unbelievably hot Boston evening, I reach the Mystic River. My kind of river. How secluded, calm, full of trees, trails, birds chirping, colors in the sky, fear in the heart as it darkens. Trusting the maps once again, I reach home.
Next, Castle Island, South Boston. Boston does a Bangalore again. Terribly cold weather. Freeze the poor hands to come back home. Meanwhile, the Atlantic. Again, and again and again.
The ever so incredible Sanders Theatre. The long wait in line to get our tickets, with the proud Harvard IDs that we carry. We always bagged attention, you know? A bunch of 11, from every corner of the world, always stuck together, predicting people's origins and bringing the rest of the world to ourselves.
As it was the last week, the heart craved to gobble up every opportunity to remember Boston much more. It's places, food, strangers and me in it. Revere Beach, Downtown Boston. Red line. Blue line. Green line. Growing up without the sea close b, every time I get a chance, I run to the sea/ocean. As though it were my lover. So strong, vulnerable, cold. This Boston for me. A wonderful stranger that caught me off guard as I was on the way to get some essentials. What a beautiful conversation that was, I hope we meet again, or rather not, so I could always remember how beautiful I felt, how warm that moment was.
The last few days. One constant rant on my mind. Sylvia Plath. My urge to visit the place, she was born in, grew up in, where she wrote her first poem, where she WAS. I start on this journey alone. Google suggestions to reach the place, taken. Red line, green line, lost, red line again, needham line, which I never found. Finally reached Jackson Square, 15 mins away from my destination.Beautiful graffiti everywhere. Weather gets bad, minute after minute. Strong gutsy winds that push me away. Walking had never been this tough, I wonder what it is like in the poles, in Antartica, in the tornado, the core of it. Such a struggle. My hands begin to numb even with the gloves and stacked into the warm jackets. I walk, with this fraking unreliable map (maybe just today). The temperature was -10, felt like -30, which was getting worse that I had to decide quickly on going back home or collapsing.
But, Sylvia was here. She might have probably walked here. A quick coffee break to decide on what had to be done. Caramel Macchiato and I, such a love story in America. I ask the guy at the counter, about my destination, the distance, the whereabouts. He says, 'Darling, you need to get back home, the weather is dreadful.' And thus, ended my craving.
However, there was something lined up to make my day. The T at Davis, is out of bounds. Harvard and somewhere far. A Columbian and I smirk at America. At the train that goes off time and again. At the temperature dripping minute after minute. We go together, on our struggle back home. Such a sweetheart. She doesn't know English. We converse using the Translator app on her phone. Davis finally. The shuttle indeed gave a different perspective to Porter Square.
And slowly, yet very significantly, one by one, we pack, we leave, back home, empty house, empty cupboards, empty rooms, it ends here. The hard goodbye. The best team I have ever worked with, lived with, fell in love with and pampered and smothered by all the love.
Goodbye, my lovers. Goodbye Trull Street, Goodbye one stranger I met everyday who made me blush.
Somewhere up above--
Yes, the same Cabin crew story. The inevitable cabin crew and their charm.
The conversation that Reigh (Cabin Crew) and I had, tops all the conversations I have ever had, I would definitely go to Europe, to Berling, just for him. For that happiness, demenor and charm. Meanwhile, these women! Who have to interrupt beautiful moments, and my Berlin kanna had to get back to work. Yet another beautiful woman from Germany, who was going home to surprise her sister, since she is having a baby. Such wonderful crystal eyes she had. Complimenting her was how we started talking.
Next, the 7 hour layoff in Germany.
Books, eavesdropping, jet lag, home on my mind.
And, this beautiful human came to me. To meddle up every question I ever had, to smirk at my quick wit and his ever so thoughtfulness on every topic we spoke about. So much, so that, a restless guy had to shush us.
Flying time, home bound. With this marvelous company.
Caught these rocky mountains that have been escaping for so long.
That's an end to the journey of US of A and I, as YET. :)
The sixth seven days, noons, evenings and nights were, in all its glory, wrapped into these words-
In certain urgency, of time, space & people, magic happened.
© Deekshita
(Just grateful and happy.)
08:15 pm, Bangalore.
10:45 am, Boston.
Boston Harbor Walk.
What a vortex of amusement the ocean is. So mighty, so calm, so unpredictable, so certain and yet uncertain. Sometimes, just like us. As a brilliant approval for the day in my head, this one particular Seagull that I try to capture through my lens looks at me, stares into my soul, as if it knew me, who I was, what bothered me and several other secrets/thoughts that I assumed were only mine. A plethora of sonder around me. In ships, cruises, children & their tantrums, the dogs & their curiosity, me and my beautiful day.
It was one of the warmest day of my time in Boston. So much, that there was sweat in that East country of absolute cold winters. And? And, there was the rain. Dripping out of nowhere. Boston does a Bangalore at times, isn't it?
As it gets darker, I remember a certain river that caught my interest. The Mystic River. Quite obvious, isn't it? I set out to find the Mystic river, with my companion as the Maps, the Microsoft Maps, mind it. After several minutes of doubting my plan, halfway through home, I decide to go anyway. Already lost to a good enough level, I might as well do some more of what I put myself through, right? After fighting with the setting sun to hold on until I reach the intended to get the best view of the setting sun, an hour of walking with several epitomes of ache in my leg and the unbelievably hot Boston evening, I reach the Mystic River. My kind of river. How secluded, calm, full of trees, trails, birds chirping, colors in the sky, fear in the heart as it darkens. Trusting the maps once again, I reach home.
Next, Castle Island, South Boston. Boston does a Bangalore again. Terribly cold weather. Freeze the poor hands to come back home. Meanwhile, the Atlantic. Again, and again and again.
The ever so incredible Sanders Theatre. The long wait in line to get our tickets, with the proud Harvard IDs that we carry. We always bagged attention, you know? A bunch of 11, from every corner of the world, always stuck together, predicting people's origins and bringing the rest of the world to ourselves.
As it was the last week, the heart craved to gobble up every opportunity to remember Boston much more. It's places, food, strangers and me in it. Revere Beach, Downtown Boston. Red line. Blue line. Green line. Growing up without the sea close b, every time I get a chance, I run to the sea/ocean. As though it were my lover. So strong, vulnerable, cold. This Boston for me. A wonderful stranger that caught me off guard as I was on the way to get some essentials. What a beautiful conversation that was, I hope we meet again, or rather not, so I could always remember how beautiful I felt, how warm that moment was.
The last few days. One constant rant on my mind. Sylvia Plath. My urge to visit the place, she was born in, grew up in, where she wrote her first poem, where she WAS. I start on this journey alone. Google suggestions to reach the place, taken. Red line, green line, lost, red line again, needham line, which I never found. Finally reached Jackson Square, 15 mins away from my destination.Beautiful graffiti everywhere. Weather gets bad, minute after minute. Strong gutsy winds that push me away. Walking had never been this tough, I wonder what it is like in the poles, in Antartica, in the tornado, the core of it. Such a struggle. My hands begin to numb even with the gloves and stacked into the warm jackets. I walk, with this fraking unreliable map (maybe just today). The temperature was -10, felt like -30, which was getting worse that I had to decide quickly on going back home or collapsing.
But, Sylvia was here. She might have probably walked here. A quick coffee break to decide on what had to be done. Caramel Macchiato and I, such a love story in America. I ask the guy at the counter, about my destination, the distance, the whereabouts. He says, 'Darling, you need to get back home, the weather is dreadful.' And thus, ended my craving.
However, there was something lined up to make my day. The T at Davis, is out of bounds. Harvard and somewhere far. A Columbian and I smirk at America. At the train that goes off time and again. At the temperature dripping minute after minute. We go together, on our struggle back home. Such a sweetheart. She doesn't know English. We converse using the Translator app on her phone. Davis finally. The shuttle indeed gave a different perspective to Porter Square.
And slowly, yet very significantly, one by one, we pack, we leave, back home, empty house, empty cupboards, empty rooms, it ends here. The hard goodbye. The best team I have ever worked with, lived with, fell in love with and pampered and smothered by all the love.
Goodbye, my lovers. Goodbye Trull Street, Goodbye one stranger I met everyday who made me blush.
Somewhere up above--
Yes, the same Cabin crew story. The inevitable cabin crew and their charm.
The conversation that Reigh (Cabin Crew) and I had, tops all the conversations I have ever had, I would definitely go to Europe, to Berling, just for him. For that happiness, demenor and charm. Meanwhile, these women! Who have to interrupt beautiful moments, and my Berlin kanna had to get back to work. Yet another beautiful woman from Germany, who was going home to surprise her sister, since she is having a baby. Such wonderful crystal eyes she had. Complimenting her was how we started talking.
Next, the 7 hour layoff in Germany.
Books, eavesdropping, jet lag, home on my mind.
And, this beautiful human came to me. To meddle up every question I ever had, to smirk at my quick wit and his ever so thoughtfulness on every topic we spoke about. So much, so that, a restless guy had to shush us.
Flying time, home bound. With this marvelous company.
Caught these rocky mountains that have been escaping for so long.
That's an end to the journey of US of A and I, as YET. :)
The sixth seven days, noons, evenings and nights were, in all its glory, wrapped into these words-
In certain urgency, of time, space & people, magic happened.
© Deekshita
(Just grateful and happy.)
08:15 pm, Bangalore.
10:45 am, Boston.
