Inside picnic

From why and how to start writing to here I am starting to write, it is a big leap as always. Can we enjoy a drop falling down from window roof and merging eventually into the small puddle lying there much below its level? In the slomo version of this story, an eon passes. An inexpressible joy lies while enjoying it. This can happen only when our inside is enjoying a picnic of its own. 

We went out on a hot UK summer day with eight families hardly yet woven into the fabric of the social network. People chatted, judged, revitalized, ate while the lake stood there frozen. Ducks albeit large in number moved with non violent symmetry. Hot sky was printed with screensaver clouds. Bouts of winds relieved the exteriors. kids mesmerized with their innocence while eating, playing and crying.

Interiors observed groups being formed. Fear kicked in to solve lack of communication. Randomness lead to fun and banter. All that outside picnic was directed towards insides. A single source brightened in the inner corners of existence by the end of the day. Its all quite now.

An external friend is good enough in times of need.

I wish an internal friend was good enough too.