Real life or fantasy?

The sun peeked from behind the cloud and gently licked her face with its rays, showering her freckled cheeks with love. She stopped walking for a moment - a trail of brisk footprints still visible on the misty grass behind her; a myriad of dust specks still swirling around in an enchanting dance.

And then the Universe came to an ephemeral standstill.

The girl - she just stood there, the eyelids down over her opalescent eyes, the chin upturned towards the blue firmament dotted with white cotton candy.

‘Oh, let the moment linger on’, softly whispered the melodious voice in her head.

Warm July breeze danced with the golden locks that cascaded all the way down to her waistline. The tickling sensation on her neck sent an electrifying wave of pleasure down her spine. Long blades of grass, fragrant chamomile flowers, crimson poppies, and blue forget-me-nots brushed against her sun-kissed ankles. The earth vibrated under her bare feet. Bird chirruping and bee buzzing reached her pointy ears and reverberated through her eardrums, causing an orgasm-like sensation to spread all through her body - even reaching the very tips of her toes.

Exhale. And inhale.

She took a deep breath to smell the intoxicating aroma of a summer meadow.

Her immersion was complete now. She’d become an integral part of the nature around her.

Letting the air escape her lungs, she opened her eyes.

Blink. Blink.

It took a minute to adjust her blurry vision and see the view ahead in all its glory once again.

She extended her right arm.

“You don’t just wake up and become the butterfly, growth is a process. ~Rupi Kaur”, read the tattoo on the inside of her forearm.

She lifted the hand further up, as if to touch the sun, and a butterfly sat on her pinky finger.

A butterfly. A flower of the sky.

It seemed very content there - wouldn’t so much as budge, even when she moved her arm closer towards her rosy face to have a better look.

A marriage of oranges and yellows crisscrossed with black veins upon its fluffy wings - it was truly a sight to admire.

In its serenity, the creature seemed to be waiting for the girl to seal off a pinky promise before it could resume its colourful dance: ‘you too shall fly one day’.

She took a deep breath again, the corners of her mouth curling up in a smile, and gently nodded in agreement.

Then the golden butterfly took to the sky satisfied.

Feeling lighter than ever, the girl continued her walk through the meadow.

Trotting gently as she was (which looked as if she was floating; hovering above the ground), she made her way to the beloved pear tree.

It stood tall right in the middle of the field, old and wrinkled by the years it’d weathered.

Her granddad had planted it. And now she, just like her mom years earlier, came here to that spot every day throughout the summer to salute the sun.

Surya Namaskar. Sun salutation.

Inhale. Mountain pose. Exhale. Forward bend. Inhale. Exhale. Plank pose. Inhale. Four-limbed staff pose. Exhale. Cobra. Inhale. Down dog. Exhale. Inhale. Back to forward bend. Exhale. Inhale. Finish.

The full circle.

Then she climbed up the tree, muscle memory swiftly guiding her feet to the folds in the trunk, and sat down on her favourite branch, getting comfortable in its cosy nook.

The sun reached the highest point in the sky. It was time to listen to another of the tree’s wise stories.

One generous bite into its juicy fruit was how they all began.

She picked the golden pear that was hanging an arm’s length away from her nose. It fit perfectly into her hand, the long bony fingers hugging it softly.

Without further ado, she let her rosy lips curve around the fruit and her teeth sink into its flesh:

In my lifetime

I have seen ten thousand sunsets

maybe more

Have spent every evening

Watching this magnificent show

Admired how the Sun always gives way for the Moon to glow

Letting the day turn into the night again

And again

And again

Always trusting the Moon will return the throne at dusk again

And again

And again

Each embracing their own time to glow

In my lifetime

I have seen ten thousand sunsets

Maybe more

And no two of them have ever been the same

With all the hues changing by the second

Each moment always magically special

Different to the one before

Unique to the one after

I have watched every single sunset

So the sun doesn’t feel upset

That its shine goes unnoticed

A beauty taken for granted

A thought came to me one day

How every

Thing

And every

Being

On earth

Is special in their own unique way

It’s just

Be that as it may

No one acknowledges it

For it seems so obvious

As the sun doing down at the end of the day

And so

May you never forget

How beautiful indeed you are

A sunset personified

Always a star

Shining from afar

Even if there’s no one there to acknowledge your fire

Or especially then

***

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Chilly December rain started falling from the sad grey sky. Big heavy droplets.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She pulled the hood of her off-pink jumper tighter over her head and did up the buttons of her faux fur coat.

Strolling down the cobbles of Camden High Street, she couldn’t help but notice what a desolate look it was to see a place once so vibrant all silent and boarded up. This silly virus had managed to turn one of the liveliest areas of London into an abandoned ghost town.

She stopped midstep and listened.

Tap, tap, tap.

The rain was picking up the pace. A curtain of cold water obstructed the view, covering anything further than ten metres away from where she was standing with its thick fabric.

The siren of an ambulance blaring somewhere. On its way to attend a road accident or pick up another Covid-19 infected person? Who knows…

An Overground train passing by in the distance. A loud caterpillar-like creature meandering through the labirynth of London bending like a snake, carrying expressionless faces illuminated by smartphone screens from their A’s to their B’s. It was probably pretty empty now.

The cry of a small baby in one of the flats nearby, communicating a need the parents would have to guess to satisfy. ‘Who chooses to live with a small child right in the heart of noisy Camden full of weirdos?’

An airplane gliding through the sky, hidden somewhere in the clouds, wrapped up tightly in its grey fluff - a rare sound to hear nowadays.

An empty red double-decker driving by ahead of its schedule for the lack of traffic on the roads. Whoever boards it is guaranteed to feel awkward being the only passenger. On the flipside, they could have the whole upper deck front row to themselves.

To put it all in one word - silence.

The spirit of Camden died like the inner child stifled in a body trying to be a “responsible adult”.

‘How do I stay alive in this grim world? How has the everyday reality become so depressing?’

Wait there.

Is that someone singing?

Do I hear a voice?

She pricked up her ears.

It was a child’s soft voice humming a Christmas song:

“On the second day of Christmas my true love sent to me

Two turtle doves, and

A partridge in a pear tree…”

A pear tree!

She just remembered she’d had an amazing dream last night.

A pear tree that told wise stories.

Her lips curled up in a smile, and she continued her walk, much happier now; living up fantasies in her head.

That was her way to stay sane in the mundane world - to be a little insane every once in a while and let thoughts run away with the fairies…