On a bus-stop early in the morning. Not a single soul in sight. The house across the street with smoking chimney looks serene surrounded by pine trees. It’s not raining right now but it will any minute. Breeze carries the smell of burned wood.
Reminds me of the old-style copper water heater standing in the backyard of my family home in India. A similar rainy, fresh and green morning some 30 years ago, smoke pouring out of that wood-burning water heater. My aunt is hovering around in fear of a kid forgetting to refill the container and breaking the morning cycle of a busy household. I am standing there waiting for my share of hot water, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of that small town morning, zipped back 30 years in time and thousands of miles in distance in barely a second. Such is the beauty of a mind that wanders.
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