I don't know how you spell a sigh to be honest, is it hawwwww! or is it awwwrrghgh or anything else, but let me start with you picturing me in this situation.
Light music, no light except the one coming from the laptop screen, there is a slight outline of stuff visible in my room, which has no furniture by the way; no bed, no table, no cupboard, just a carpet, my bare bedsheet and few pillows to support my back.Not even a foam, not because I am poor, I just love it this way. It has no imperfections because in such a room there is nothing to improve other than the walls which have been optimized as well by writing on each of them.
So yeah it is quite a weirdly peaceful and fulfilling setting to be in, when I am here to write about motivation, about being a free spirit and about achieving every milestone, aiming for the stars with a life that someone would call dull.
Hence the sigh comes out of my heart, ventures through my lungs as though pretending to not care for my heart but silently carrying some of the heavy burden along with it, meeting the sulking trachea on the way, giving its condolences, and out of my body.
My heart was beating even faster when the sigh left because in an attempt to carry away the burden and lighten the baggage, did it also carry some form of memory of someone? My heart got worried, told my brain and then the brain looked for that face in me.
It ransacked the entire life of mine, in a millisecond, took me to places and faces I no longer recognized, trying to scour for that one face, that one memory that was supposed to be deposited in my head, in my heart and the stupid heart had lost it.
Then what? The brain had no choice, but to use the body. It told me. Ordered me to pick the phone, the USB, but how was I supposed to find her there, when my heart promised me that it would keep it safe.
But here I was helpless, about to mourn when I remembered; I asked my brain if it could ask my fingers. “How would they know without me? I tell them what they know and do not know. But the heart then remembered that my fingers think as well. They do.
Upon insisting we provided the fingers of my hands a laptop, and about 5 minutes.
“Not so fair skinned, but not brown, a tint of pale white, I would say but not the one that made her look weak, but the kind that makes you glow in light, slight pink cheeks, the hair was black, carrying a darkness that was competing with the light from the face. Obviously this vicious competition never stopped unless the hands would come to the rescue and help the hair go back. Peeking from the sides were two jewel-like ears that never complained that they were not part of the spotlight. They never wore heavy jewels, never needed them. Just a small stone maybe or a small ring shaped earring. The earring would feel overshadowed. The perfect design, the perfect skin enveloping the soft bones of the ear and they both of a size creating a ratio better than Fibonacci. Right in the front were two more stones. like when the sun light becomes when its about to fade away. Like when the tree is mature enough to give support, its trunk having a texture that tells tales of hundreds of years. Like the color of a withered leaf, that fought to stand and give life to everything else till the end. Like the sand on the edge of the Australian beaches, textures created by the waves that may have destroyed ships just like these two eyes destroyed many hearts. They endlessly dazzled, never dimming, never weakening. Their only opponent and hater, the eyelids that would cover them for a split second every few moments later, maybe to remind them that these eyes are not for everyone to see all the time. They are to be protected, even from love because they were innocent enough to never know that someone could be building a life for them, living for them, and somewhere someone died for them.
Then comes the part of the face that sometimes my body used to laugh at, seemed something that was unusual. Of course no one is perfect, so was that too. The only way to describe that was unique. Imagining to slide over it myself if i was a minion or she was a giant, it would be an awesome ride, such was the shape of her nose. Not straight, not round, not button-nosed, something I don't have a word for, hope the damn brain can work on that. It was; let's just call it magical. The way it supported the eyes, although they never needed it, was extraordinary. I used to think that if there was any other type of nose that would fit here, but no. It was the best, and I am no one to say that what looks perfect; I am just trying not to be human.
No mole on the face, no marks, just the face, better than the moon, the moon has its dark spots. Here I could not find any. I could go on if you like. Explain every bit of detail again. About the things I left out. But some of them have a sanctity. That will always remain. That is to be protected. So here I stop.”
The fingers then rested. So did the brain. My heart is not beating rapidly now. It is now completely at rest. “Lost and Found, huh?” the brain said.
The heart replied, “Yep, we still remember, after all these years. Lost and found indeed.”
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