Libraries of memories

It was evening that day, when I sat on the wooden bench near the lakeside of Alamanda. Gushing waters from the lawn noozles formed a perfect projection before dissolving into tiny specks of water floating in the air and settling onto the carpet grass, the rock and onto me.

The weather was mild and windy, the laughters of children can be heard from a playground just behind of where I sat. Looking up to the sky, I saw dark clouds looming at the south of where I am. I turned and gazed at what lies ahead of me. I look through to the end of the sky and it was a greyish-blue tapestry tainted with faded orange smudges to the west of it. The breeze has made the leaves rustle. Shatters of evening sunlight came through the cracks of the leaves and befell onto a serene mind that was running through the libraries of memories.

It was indulgence in dreams of the past followed by lost memories. Unspoken feelings swarmed over me. Somehow, it connects to my deepest soul and even the furthest remembrance of my distant childhood memories had surfaced. The evening sun, the leaves, the breeze and nature itself left me roaming in the discovery of those that has been long hidden.