My pot of gold

take2

I started to read Treasure Island when I was 10 years old. It was part of my school lessons; so every time my teacher would make one of us read the text out loud, I would be way ahead of them — like a little school girl who had the biggest and the most “funnest” balloon, I would continue to read even when they would stop to discuss the story. Well, that explains my terrible marks.

But then, I never could get enough of that story. During summer break at my grand parents house, I started making treasure maps of my own. And, well, since the “oldies” didn’t have time for my amazing games, I would end up finding the treasure which would usually be coloured rocks that I had gathered over a period of time.

Fun, funner, funnest.

Until, I grew up. The coloured stones lost their meaning when the real world demanded bills to be paid. And there was that matter about people being nasty, rude and downright cruel. That combined together can surely be a buzz kill. But then you learn to live in a world that you can’t change but only adapt to.

—-

Take1

The weather has been extremely hot for the past couple of weeks. So hot that all I want to do during the morning is — stay inside. I know that’s not how world domination takes place, but my evil plans will have to wait, for the heat is proving to be a bigger enemy.

But this Monday, I woke up at 5.30 am and I sat near the window for half an hour and did nothing. While a psychiatrist might have a field day when presented with such a behaviour, I assure you I am perfectly sane… or so I hope. It was breezy, so cool and windy that I had goosebumps, a rarity in this terrible weather.

And it was then I realised my treasure or at least a piece of it was staring me right in the face — beauty.

I forgot what I was searching for even when it was starting me right in the face.
It took me a while to realise
the treasure I was looking for was missing for a reason —
I had forgotten to look for the map that was in my pocket all along…

take3

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