View from the window

I sit here trying to think of something to write again, which I almost do everyday now but never implement. I put that in the back of my mind everyday until it hits me hard like a hangover, and then I cant think or do anything else, just sit and glare in front of my monitor with eyes protruded like that of an owl. But alas some things are never meant to be, my fingers never get the kind of exercise I want them to get and the words I sometimes write next to each other never give any meaning to my thoughts.

I sit here on my computer, besides this window watching the sun go down which was never just an astronomical entity for me. It fills me with grief and pleasure at the same time. Grief, I don’t know why. Pleased because this view has tingled my creative urges, which I never thought it would. The sky is changing its colour like a chameleon and I am having delusions of grandeur. I can see four pine trees almost reaching till my window within a distance of 10 feet and their top looks like a child desperately trying to hold on to a wall to get on the other side but only manages to get his face above it. Suddenly the memories of my childhood have exploded in my brain and can’t seem to settle down. The only thing that multiplies faster than rabbits are memories, especially if you get the feeling of masochism it tends to multiply at the speed of lightning. The window has grills which cut the view in 15 frames of equal sizes. I can’t see the vehicles passing, but I can surely hear them and feel the terrible vibrations when frequently a bus passes by.