Dusty Hometown

Dusty Hometown

The room was filled with the fresh morning light. I checked the clock to make sure it was way too early to get up. Felt strange to wake up at that hour, quite unusual. I wondered what it looked like, how different it’d be. Is the world a better place early in the morning?

I stood by the window. Marvelous, I said to myself and walked back to the nightstand to grab my camera; it had to be captured. The sun was up, and the morning was there, but it was yet hiding behind the tall mountains. The light was bright yellow, and it was glowing with such great power. The early morning mist was covering the hills and the city, just as a golden blanket with the patterns of buildings and roofs. Only a minute left for the sun to break the spell and shine upon our dusty hometown. So very close to the edge.

The ocean of houses and things were lying on the south side of the mountains. Quiet, it was very still. And I was too far away to hear the hustle and anxiousness of the streets to get the day started. The city was waking up, and it was going to be loud, as it already was. The never-resting highways, smog that won’t catch a break. It looked innocent. Or maybe I was just too sleepy to understand the reality.

I went back to bed–that was the biggest mistake. Forcing myself to nap was the worst thing that I could’ve done. I was up and awake, absolutely fresh. That was just the perfect time to get the day started, and catch up with the infinite load of work at my desk. But, I went back to bed instead, and waited for the sleep to draw me in. Just before I fell asleep, I took a glimpse at the room, to the new-born sunlight shining on the wall in front of me, through the curtain and the window glass. It’s been one minute already.

30.May.17 – Tehran, Iran

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