What do you love?

What do you love?

As opposed to how simple the question seems, the answer to it has made me think a lot. What do I love? Okay, here it goes –

I love old second hand books. I like books in general, but there’s something strangely beautiful about reading a book that has been read. It doesn’t smell fresh, it carries the essence of the hands that have turned those pages before me. Those pages hold dried up tears of the eyes that read them before me. The covers are torn from being passed on like the shabby clothes of a wanderer.

I like the sky in all it’s phases. The pleasant blue sky with sunshine in spring, the sky filled with white puffy clouds that make me want to jump on them, the sky when it changes it’s colours from blue to orange to pink to purple to indigo to black. But I love only a violent sky during a thunderstorm on a gloomy afternoon, the grey clouds asserting their power on us. I love how just like me, the sky fails to contain its anger and bursts into tears. I think that is why the rain calms me down, the downpour feels like the letting go of a rush of emotions and just as it’s done raining, everything feels better than before.

I like flowers, who doesn’t. They effortlessly add beauty around us. But I could only ever find myself to love sunflowers. I love how they’re big, yellow, bright and always attracted to sunshine, but also how they’re strong and independent and only grow once out of a seed. They live for a couple weeks but make the most out of it.

I like music, different genres catering to my different moods. My likes go from Nusrat to Avenged Sevenfold. But when it comes to love I want my music slow maybe sad and maybe romantic. I love when the lyrics speak my heart and the music brings peace to my soul. I love it even more when music makes me cry because good art is meant to make you vulnerable. I love how music speaks volumes, bringing back memories of what was loved and lost, like someone tracing a scar on your body with their fingers and wanting to learn how you got it in the first place.

I love the moon. In all its phases. I love it in its thin crescent shape associated with witches and wizards. I love it when it’s full and round and golden and appears closer to us than usual, so close that I get to see the scars it so beautifully flaunts. I love it when it’s partially hidden among clouds and ends up making the clouds seem more heavenly. I love how it beautifies everything it touches. I love how magnificent two lovers look under the soft white moonlight shining upon them that makes them just want to kiss each other.

I love dogs. I love how those little paws grow into big furry ones creating a mess wherever they go. I love how they unconditionally love and effortlessly boop their way into our hearts. How they shed these magical fibres all around unapologetically and get away with every mischief with those adorable faces. How they’re here only for a part of your life but leave a mark forever.

I love kindness. It’s sad how it surprises most people exposing how much they’re accustomed to cruelty. I love it when kind words make someone happy even for a miniscule part of their day because I know, they will remember it for days to come and carry this kindness forward.

I love the sea. I love how I look at it and see an infinity of possibilities, like the world never ends. The waves playing catch with the shore make me feel free. I love how the expanse of water descends into the sky at the horizon, making them seem like one. I love how the sand escaping under my feet makes me feel liberated from the reality of life. The ocean calms my breath and gets me rid of the chaos in my head.

I love quotes and thoughts penned down by people. I love how they reflect the mind processes of millions of people having millions of ideas but somehow getting so many of us to relate together. It leaves me in awe of how we have our own ways of describing the same things.

I love old buildings. I love the intricacy of the Architecture. The mixture of art in it. How the centuries old structures are still standing erect on the soil in which the hands that crafted them have been buried. I like to feel the numerous generations that have touched and breathed against those walls. I love the scent they carry, rusty and reminiscent.

I love people, in their own world, lost in their own imagination. People clicking pictures of other people, people picking habits of other people, people sticking up for each other, people sharing their vast opinions, people baking, people reading, people living life. Everytime I pass a busy street, I get lost in the faces of the people I see and wonder they all have different things going on in their life. Every person I pass has a life as unique as themselves. And this pool of infinite personalities is what amazes me.

When I started writing this piece, I couldn’t think of many things that I’d considered as love. But as strong as the word is, it is also the simplest. The more we think about it, the more we complicate the meaning of this simple word – Love.