nightswimming

as it turns out,night is the ideal time i could fall in love with myself.
now,falling in love with oneself doesnt necessarily require a right time or place.you can just about fall in love with yourself at the least auspicious moments.while crossing the road perhaps.
i do.i fall in and out of love with myself while crossing the road.i could be particularly elated at myself for making something as commonplace as crossing a road seem so interesting for me as well as for people around and fall head over heels on me for simply that.
but at night its a different ball game altogether.
i go for random walks around my locality,just for the information,at night and NOT because i have to cut down on the extra fat.that does probably lurk somewhere as a possible cause.but the walks are mostly meant to catch up with myself.and for people like me who couldnt care two hoots about the world,talking to self while walking can be darn therapeutic.
staying up late works for me.
so does random staring at the mirror and talking to the walls.
the other day mum barged into my room at two in the morning only to find me staring at a very red wall and talking baloney.her face contorted in a way i have never seen before.and it wasnt expression she would have donned to dissapprove my staying up late.its the face one makes on giving birth to a baby that closely resembles an ape,with verrry hairy features,tail,et al.
i probably reminded her of characters from far off lands ,preferably from marquez's stories who were insomniac,rocked on an armchair all night and talked baloney to the mute wall when not devouring fists full of wet earth from the garden.
have you heard the sound of bare feet swishing across the crude floor at night?or of clocks ticking in immaculate sequence one after the other?it seems as though my room comes alive with distinctive noises i could never perceive at daytime however discreet i stayed.i stay up for them.i stay up simply to admire the lovely motif the shadows cast on the glass showcase atop the kalo almirah.the neon incandescence falling against the palm leaves conjure the most fantastical silhouettes unlike what i have often viewed in cliche postcards and tourist brochures.thats where my sublime rests at night.amidst mango trees and random swishing of feet against cool mosaic.thats where my soul hovers at night.and when dawn breaks,the noises surreptitiously creep into lost crevices and tuck themselves away.