Amber coloured tiles

hey you. i’m sitting somewhere olive green is the loudest thing in the room. its texture hugging me tightly. the light is turning amber floors into some liquid seas of warmth, anything unlike the cold cement we’re so used to.

recently, i’ve been thinking about shared third places and the quiet comfort that arrives with it, as i find myself escaping to them more often. for me, they come with a mutual understanding of productive, whimsical hours, composed into the early and late hours of the day – or a space for being, belonging, conversing, whether it be with strangers, carrying different stories, multiple layers, often of all ages. some study, some write, some read, some work, some plainly arrive in peaceful matters to build connection.

i witness a grandpa using his iPhone, taking a photo to share with strangers. of them – smiling, in the moment, present, emerging from a conversation and the intimacy of being together. unfinished sentences, brief encounters, a day made bright and sunny, wholesome at its core.

dark teal covering the walls, complimenting rusty metals and earthy wood. a giant ornate mirror, reflecting the faces and beings of various people. always at a different angle, always capturing something in its rawest moments. classical music in the background, bouncing off high walls and even higher windows. outside, the trees are dancing to the rhythm of the winds, undisturbed by the rush of the traffic just beside it. tilted floors, tiled, warm, amber. olive green its companion, beige the highlight of the cosy warmth it radiates.

the feeling warm chai will give you on a cold, cloudy day. except it’s the peak of summer – but we’re looking for warmth in colour, not the quick, shiny silver. a desire to warm what can only be warmed by closeness, nostalgia, by slowing down and noticing. a fresh breath of air on cold mornings and early evenings. lighting a candle, forever cradling in cosy spaces – the seconds pause because we’ll miss them soon.

i want the warmth of the rustic lamp to reach me all the way down here, so i can hold it close, take a deep look, and hope that it shall guide me to the rest of it.

what are we if not romantic slaves to the closeness changing seasons give us? what are we if not attached to little moments of strange connection, random encounter, and a heart suddenly bursting with joy? out of the blue, for the blue. what are we if not adventurers for comfort, for new enticing excitement, of feeling what we have not felt in a long time, but must feel more often in order to cherish what we only have once?

life. soft tunes. yellow chairs. leather. wood. sage. turmeric. cinnamon. iron. glass. brass. pipes. pillows. tiles. conversations. silence. from teachings to love. from vulnerability to being vulnerable. from anxiety to comfort. from strangers to friends. from friends to strangers. from feeling to being.

maybe we need to meet more often. unexpectedly, securely, wholeheartedly. i shall wait for you, and i always have. because i know your arrival will be my joy of the day, the week, the month, the year. i will hold on to it, let it go, and wave from afar. i will cherish, i will smile, i will cry over dry pillows.

i will hold the space so you can be yourself.
just how the room held me, in amber and olive green.

because that is the greatest gift you can give me. sing me the melodies of your life, your thoughts, of your heart and soul. sing to me in rhythms only the blind can see. sing to me in soft hums so i shall listen closely, and never forget the warmth that came with them. sing to me today, forever, and every day. i shall wait for you. in shared third places and the realm of connection.

i will wait for you. i promise.