Aida Zabidi
It's been so long since I've stayed up all night talking with newly made friends, a throwback to those university days where everyone was on holiday and work didn't matter. 

One of the guys I met was leading a life I'd always dreamed of - traveling the world, taking photos for a living - I could only wish to sample the type of experiences he'd had one of these days; but conventional living doesn't always make it easy for unconvetional living. 

I didn't expect to stay out so long, half expected for one of us to call it a night at some point of time, but for some reason or other, perhaps all of us were slightly reluctant to make that call. And so we stayed, chatting until those wee hours in the morning, until our stomachs rumbled with hunger and the muezzin called for prayers, and then we finally made our move. 

I enjoy these meets. The characters may be recurring, or may be entirely different people, but they all have stories to tell, stories to inspire, and I can always spend hours of my time listening to the different things they have to say. These conversations are precious to me, these short glimpses into the lives of others. 

Stories build up the backbone of life. They remind us of our humanity, of our fragility, of our connection to others in the world. 

So I listen. 
And dream.
0 Responses

Post a Comment