Weekly Writing Challenge: Collecting Detail

Darkness fell and enveloped the world in its entirety, or my world as it was. My air-conditioning was turned on ironically, at a mechanically precise 25 degrees celsius, almost as if to mock the cool night air on the other side of the glass windows, acting as a membrane between nature and artificiality. However, nature doesn’t bear grudges; it accepts whatever we throw at it, and its response is a direct result of our behaviour.

The only source of light permeating my room was from the street lamps lining the pavement. They emitted a quaint yellowish hue, similar to that of the pith of an orange. Intermittent droning of car engines roared unceremoniously as tires pressured against the metal drains without much effort for courtesy, resonating an irritable clanking.

What prevented me from falling asleep, or rather what kept me awake, was the activity in my head, not the coarse sound of combustion engines, and the livid state of my mind, as compared to the poignant lights.

I was inebriated with my own thoughts and fantasies, bustling with activity. I felt myself drift to distant lands and as the world stood very much still, my mind was reproachably active.

I dreamt of people all around the world. What were they like? What were they doing? What was their weather like? How were they feeling? What were their dreams and aspirations?  I really wish to meet the people I didn’t know, or maybe have yet to. One day the puzzle will piece itself together, and that thought served as a sedative, sending my body to recover for the next sunrise.