The Young Man

 

It was a warm and beautiful summer afternoon. I remember it so well. I was wandering along the narrow streets in Lübeck, a northern German city.

 

The glow of the sunset fell lightly on the colourful high windows of St. Mary’s Church.  The small round iron tables outside a vintage café looked familiar. Weren’t they of the same style of those portrayed in Van Gogh’s Café Terrace at Night?

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Waves of life

What is it? The mind is attempting to distinguish the noise. The sound of raindrops hitting the window in a consistent rhythm, it is pouring out there. A few drops falling on my cheeks, I turn away and refuse to close the window properly. I must catch up before the dream turning into fragments. 

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