How sometimes living is melancholy
Now that I am sitting here on my grandfather's chair, which my father inherited after my grandfather passed away on the 27th of December, three days before my 13th birthday, probably the beginning of my teenage years that do not hold any thrill because mine were very simple. Now that I have finally turned 20 this year, I can tell that my teenage years slipped away like those fresh leaves from trees, leaves that are green but are no longer a part of those which are still there on the tree. Passersby tend to walk by them without noticing them, exactly how I would pass by them. Going back to the chair, I swiftly came across these past memories, and that suddenly makes me eight again, sitting at the dining table that my mom brought with her when she married my dad. I am back at my old home, the one having been mapped differently before we got it renovated, my mother, on the other hand, is ironing her clothes, and I am counting the days left for my cousin to arrive. We lived in De...