'lore

lanes of 'lore

A fiction is best when it sleeps tightly cuddled in reality. A reality that draws its nourishment from diurnal sunrises, rains, after rain somberness, silent nights, and nighlessness. ‘lore is lonely, infact, forlorn. The city breathes an air of independence. The trees cajole your silences; words drown here in the innumerable narrations of brief pauses. Either you are too crowded or you are too alone here. You might meet an abrupt relation, which you might not even repent to hold on to. ‘lore is a quiet song whose lyrics are lost in the meandering walks of tranquility. However, sometimes this peace irks you, holds you down, and buds a longing for something. But what is this longing? Is it just that the loneliness screaming in your head? Is it something that you have never cared for or didn’t even womb in your heart of heart? ‘lore ushers a warmth, a placenta that bears your fetus of imaginations secure. Even after miles and miles of walking and strolling your legs keep on wanting for some more distances to be covered. ‘lore touches your heart more than your head. It promises to keep you away from the high sun. When you are lost in of these similar looking streets, you don’t feel the fear of unknown. Somewhere it seems that the lonely, deserted lanes will take you “home.” A home where you might not be able to do things that you want, but where your words, emotions, dreams eagerly wait to give you a warm hug and make you fall asleep soon. ‘lore has taught me longing, a kind of craving. Little wings of desires keep on humming, following, and teasing me through the lanes of ‘lore.