Maybe the beginning of this morning has its twisted genesis many moons ago. Maybe this morning started when I first pondered over the word' skyscraper' and was awed by what it suggested. Maybe it was when I first registered the reflection of Bombay's silhouette in the shimmering sea. It was like watching the solidness of a concrete jungle ballet-dance, wearing the satin slippers of time - beautiful, ephemeral, and very poetic.
This morning, I stood in the balcony of the apartment in Jersey city where I'm putting up. There was a bite in the air and crisp, pure sunlight all around. I held my first cup of tea this morning - one that I'd brewed at 6:30 a.m. It feels like a sweet dream. Watching the curlicues of steam waft up and disappear into a blue sky. Through the barks of a few bare trees, I can see the Manhattan skyline rise tall and proud. Yet it shimmers in the waterfront like a shy ballet dancer on stage for the very first time.
It's my first time here. But this morning, at least, feels like it has happened many times before.
So I raise my cup at the skyline and greet it.
Bombay says hello.
This morning, I stood in the balcony of the apartment in Jersey city where I'm putting up. There was a bite in the air and crisp, pure sunlight all around. I held my first cup of tea this morning - one that I'd brewed at 6:30 a.m. It feels like a sweet dream. Watching the curlicues of steam waft up and disappear into a blue sky. Through the barks of a few bare trees, I can see the Manhattan skyline rise tall and proud. Yet it shimmers in the waterfront like a shy ballet dancer on stage for the very first time.
It's my first time here. But this morning, at least, feels like it has happened many times before.
So I raise my cup at the skyline and greet it.
Bombay says hello.
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