This whiff of air cannot extinguish the fear, flame and uncertainty in the atmosphere I am breathing, it can make it more disturbing, wild and deadly. The turbulence is there in the street that is mysteriously ending into dark homes and leading to places more agitated. Unfortunately the fire inside me roars no more, it does not intend to rise about to reach that sun in the sky. It has extinguished only the warmth of the ashes can be felt. That desire to be part of the change, to stand tough on ideas has become feeble.
People in the street are fighting for either individual identity or for the identity of the group while I carry this burden of my own identity. A part of me laughs in my one and half years toddler. A part of me try to imprint the footsteps in this land as she jumps and dances. She sings and I moan in pain. My pain part physical and most mental. No-one knows what the future has in its store but we expect it to be turn out in a certain way, we are either exhilarated for that future or just do not want to be the part of the future and sometimes we just can’t decide. I am in the state of indecision.
Now the whiff of the air has become a whirlpool not inside me but outside. It is probably trying to uproot the existence of the shatters but the stern looking structure stand still, tough. The trees are wavering with the flags of the school in my neighborhood. I cannot count the number of leaves that has fallen off but I can see the flag torn in middle. Its symbolic at this time when the country stands at the door of restructuring assignment. I have fear of tomorrow but I would rather prefer to use the term “apathetic” to describe my state. I cannot think of my identity in the restructured country, I am confused with my identity in my own life in my own world. I can’t shed my identity, I can’t choose. I could have chosen had I any option just pulling it, pulling it till I can.
