Another day is drawing to a close, the sky a welcoming pale grey and the clouds motionless. A gentle breeze sings a song that drown out the sound of the nearby traffic. This favoured spot of peace is one that always beckons a return visit, to be so secluded that no one is even aware you’re there but close enough to touch them is a rare thing these days.
Dragonflies are playing together, a wonderful sight to behold. Both are a vibrant electric blue with wings majestically carrying them across the river with ease, insects without a single care in the world and no notice of the degradation surrounding them. It must be nice to live such a life.
Memories of the mundane events of the stay come and go life the ripples formed on the waters surface from each stone sacrificed to its current. There must have been over a thousand different faces seen today, each with its own traits, imperfections and unique allure. Many had robotic eyes indicative of a drone following the orders of a higher power, that blank unassuming look that was completely unaware of the world and anything around it, purely focused on the centre of its own universe.
Others had eyes of envy, tinted with the jade shadow of jealousy, lustfully staring down their desired prize while salivating all the while and yet none in the groups of this ilk realised they were all one and the same. Each wanted what the other had and disregarded what they already had.
All of this was seen while sat in one place unnoticed by the world, one of those rare places we ar able to hide in plain sight.
As the memories fade one such thought grabbed every spare ounce of attention until it was acknowledged, eventually breaking the focus on the dancing dragonflies who in the blink of an eye disappeared. This memory was different from the rest, it was like looking at a reflection that foreshadowed the inner world of ones soul long since buried deep in the caverns of a long since forgotten inner world.
Hours had passed and the sky had lost its welcoming grey tone and opted for a much harsher black vail, it was time to leave the comfort of seclusion.
Casting the last pebble there was no sound, no splash, no ripples; it pierced the water with precision and sank to the bottom with grace. A fitting visual representation of the memory that lingered until days end, but like many before it will be forgotten and it will eventually be nothing but a shadow of something precious almost recognised, but not quite.