Woman in Moroccan Palace

The windows were wide open, and the curtains swayed with the cool autumn breeze.

Draped in warm robes, her hair in a scarf, and her face immaculately painted, she looked regal as always. Barefooted and seated on the floor, she brought a sense of ordinariness amongst the majestic aura that surrounded her.

As the black tea brewed beside her, she caught the royal guard’s intense eyes as he watched her. “One cannot help but be astounded by your beauty,” he apologised as he lowered his gaze.

“Thank you, you speak most generously. But what good is beauty if they are contained within these four walls?”

“If I may so dare ask, would my lady agree to a portrait? The people love you, it would bring them joy to see their queen, even if it is on paper.”

“Bring me the best painter in Marrakech.”

Penn Irving

I could live like this forever

It was just like a music video that had been slowed down. People were dancing with drinks in hand, smiles on faces, careless whispers on the dance floor.

I stood by the balcony, and took in the whole scene in front of me. I’ve never felt happier, I realised. Immediately I felt a wave of sadness, because I could live like this forever. Yet, everything about it was so transient.

This, marked the moment where I subconsciously made a decision that only months later I would come to realise. I sipped my drink and thought back on the conversation I had with my friend, back when I lived in New York.

I’m thinking of heading home for good.

Yeah? I think about it all the time.

So why don’t you? California’s not that far from New York.

But what if it’s not everything I expect it to be?

Then you can move back to New York, and be where you are right now. Or, try something else.

I don’t know, I like the idea of having somewhere to go to that would be better than now.

That’s like having a wish list, but never fulfilling it.

Hmmm, you’re right. But sometimes having a dream is better than facing the ugly reality of it.

But you don’t know what the reality of it is.

True, which is why you and I are both here, talking about it.

I looked at the crowd once again and thought to myself, I could live like this forever.

Wind Chime

He gave me a beautiful wind chime. I still remember that day – the sun was shinning, we were sitting on top of the hill, the wind was blowing through my hair.

I have a gift for you, he said. He revealed a beautifully wrapped parcel with my name lovingly written on it. Excited, I tore away the rustic brown paper and discovered the wind chime among the folds of coloured tissue.

It was precious and antique-looking, yet exquisite. A treasure that must have hung in a collector’s showcase. I lifted it out of its box and closed my eyes as it chimed in the wind. It felt like the world would go on forever, and I would always sit on the hill with him by my side.

Now, the wind chime hangs on my balcony. Each day at 3pm, I would go to the balcony and sit while I waited. It was always only a few moments later when I sat on my garden chair, that the wind chime would sing its song. Each time, he would appear by my side and take me with him.

We’d hear the people singing and the bells ringing as they greeted us. Welcome home, they would shout with joy. It was breath-taking – the sky lit with faint purple and the city glowed amber, radiating light and warmth. The people danced and sang constantly, it always felt like the city was celebrating.We’d spend the hours together, exploring the city and being idle. When it was time, I’d return with a longing for the next day when I would hear the wind chime ring.

Days grew to months, and months to years. One day, among the Marigolds, he asked, Would you not stay with me, here?

What would that mean for me? For my life?

He looked at me sadly and I knew the sacrifice I would have to make. What if I cannot? Will I never see you again?

I will always come to you when you are at the gate. Should there come a day that you decide to move on with your life, break the wind chime and I will no longer be able to reach you. We sat together in silence, the faint purple sky slowly passed us by. The people’s singing grew solemn.

When our time drew to an end, I held him close and whispered. He smiled, nodded and brought me home.

Standing on top of the hill, I looked across the horizon. Starring at the pale colours of the world, I hear the wind chime ringing in my ears. Welcome home, I said to myself.

Onwards! to Silver Square

I love the sound of a train’s horn. It always gives me that warm fuzzy feeling in my heart.

That’s an interesting connection, the unnamed stranger replies.

Well I grew up in a town where the railway tracks ran right through the city. Every time it reached the city gates, the train would sound its distinct clear horn, signalling its arrival. Train arrivals are always good – even though they sometimes bring bad news, because it means new supplies are here, people have returned and that the war is still going well.

The war is still going well. It seems peculiar for a girl to think in that manner, the stranger comments.

I wrap my scarf tighter around me. Winter was now breaking into spring, but the air was still a little chilly. I slowly sip my coffee, lost in thoughts.

Which train are you waiting for? the stranger asks, sensing that his previous comment may have offended me.

None, I’m just waiting for a train’s horn, then I’m off.

Not wanting to continue the conversation, I smile politely and wave to the stranger, then turn on my heels and walk further along the platform. A few minutes later, I hear the clear ring of a train’s horn. I turn to see where the train is and just manage to read its destination before it passed me by. Gripped by curiousity, I walk to the train’s platform where it was disembarking and taking in more passengers.

I’ve never heard of this destination, I thought to myself. Hmmm I only recognise half of the stations it is going to next. As I stare into the window carriages, I feel the train beckon me closer.

Miss, a man’s cheerful voice boom next to me, are you getting on this train? I have a schedule to keep up with unfortunately!

Please sir, I reply, where are you heading to? Where is Silver Square?

It’s in the far East! Spectacular city, one of my favourite places to stop. I always try to persuade the crew to let me have this route! the man winks at me. 

I smile at the cheerful man and decide to onboard the train to Silver Square. How much for a ticket? I ask.

It’s free! Now hop onboard miss, you’re going to make me late!

I look around the carriage and pick a window seat. Soon the train was rumbling along, sounding its horn as it exit the city. I begin to daydream as the scenery outside my window flash by.

Suddenly, the stranger I met earlier stands beside my chair and gazes at me. Mind if I join you?

Not at all.

So, you’re going to Silver Square?

Yes, although I’ve never been there before. I have to ask, has this city been there long? I’ve never heard of it. And why is this train free?

The stranger smiles, It’s been there all this time, it’s just not for everyone. And this train is not free, it will cost you something – the city will decide. 

What do you mean?

Before the stranger gets up to leave, he replies, Whichever path you decide to choose, do not choose it because it is easy. Choose it because it is something you want, something worth fighting for. Life passes you by as quick as the wheels on this train turns. It is never too soon nor too late to decide, to strive for and to change. The future keeps turning into the present.

You’re coming home

You held me by the shoulders, looked me in the eye and said

Promise me something

I will promise you anything you like

Think of me sometimes, cause I will think of you

You said I will think of you

Well I do, do you?

It was so quiet, you said If I listen close, will I hear the sound of your heart breaking?

 Well I do, but do you?