It was a day that reeked of high ceilinged rooms and whirring old fans, and not a buzz from even a fly to escape it. Maybe why fragmented thoughts of a perfect world, out of seemingly nowhere, thronged in my head. A rabble of sorts. A blissfully senseless concoction of voices, colors, cultures, languages, opinions, beliefs, faiths and every other sound that is familiar and is of this universe.
The perfect world as a phantasmagoric quilt. A burst of human existence. Replete with tongue-in-cheek remarks, jibes, praise, love, hatred, anger and everything else we know of. Yet somehow in harmony.
Okay, said the universe. But I was here a long time ago. And my perfect world exists irrespective of you.