There is a wind tunnel right beside my house! A natural phenomenon of sorts only came to exist after the monstrosity of a building was created along with my tiny home. When the summer heat takes its precariously vicious form and heats up the ground, this tunnel-shaped area on the east side, which is only a few feet wide, stays relatively cold and comfortable due to the shade the skyscraper, as mentioned above, provides. So the warmer and cooler ground kind of form a distraught and turbulent relationship giving birth to an erratic but eternal wind. On a warmer day, it blows almost like a mild tropical storm and such—a gift bestowed from the heavens, perhaps. In my futile attempts at escaping the harsh reality, sometimes I go there and spend hours sitting on a folding chair, with some smokes.

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This morning too, turned out to be a little bit bleak. All alone in the house trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life, my neurons started jamming up like they used to in *partial integration* classes. And within few moments, I found myself there, sitting in that crumbling chair staring blankly atop the mango groves. And then something caught my eyes—a giant alluring moth flapping its wings, trying to break off of the wind. A sudden gust entrapped it a little more. Another push and it slammed into my face. Almost as if a spaceship was racing towards infinity, and the moth got caught in its tips!

As the vigorous whirlpool eased down for a moment, it started flying again, and then to find a safe shelter, it clutched along in my beards. As the flow increased once more, it dug deeper, like a baby kangaroo reaching for its mothers' pouch! To save it from randomly getting blasted again, I took it in my palm and walked away to release it in a safer spot.

But the moth had something else in its mind. I gently grabbed it by its flaps and released it. Almost mimicking the characteristics of a boomerang, it slowly came back towards me. Before flying away, it hovered for a moment before my eyes, and I heard a whisper. Rather a call of destiny, I suppose. That I did well.

My baby niece was named today. They decided upon calling the baby angel something ridiculous yet unique. Shayan, a name unheard by me before today. Proving the point of how hard his parents love him. Little baby Shayan, the ninth member of our next generation. Her mum says he cries if anybody tries to hold him except the parents, even in the laps of his other uncles and aunts. So in a fearful attempt, I held it for the first time ever after his birth. And he didn't cry!  

With the googly curious eyes, he made eye contact with me and what I saw was an infant's attempt to unravel the mysterious knots of the universe. I murmured the name, and it responded by trying to mimic anything I say. After a while, I looked up to see a bunch of surprised yet jealous faces. My siblings couldn't believe how their many toys and trinkets failed to impress the kid, yet it liked my broke ass, which couldn't even afford a suitable bauble! And I heard lady fate again, uttering that I did great!

In the afternoon, I went on a bike ride. A couple of friends, unlimited gasoline to burn, we raced towards the unknown, and within the hour, we found ourselves near the banks of a river where millions of a unique strain of catkins bloom. While venturing a little dipper, we were stopped by a few blue collars.

*License and registrations please!*
Everything checked out, except I wasn't wearing a helmet.

*Sorry mate, can't let this pass! A guy died only a few days ago. Already everyone blames us for everything wrong happens to them. Cant overburden our conscious anymore now, can we?*

My 160cc has a top speed of 145. A little rev and they would bite the dust in a matter of seconds. Yet I say,

*It's okay, sir, you're just doing your job. What do I owe you?*

Yet again, lady fate floated by while whispering, you did good!

In the middle of the night, a wise man, no less profound than Melchizedek, living only a million miles away, says to me, *we are good because we dare to hope.* Even while the rest of the world is blasted into smithereens, we stand firm. We stare true and deep in the eyes of the icon of sin, and we say, *These violent delights have violent ends*. *For thou gaze long into the abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee*. Remember this kid, *for long is the night and cold seep deep into the bones, only for the sun to shine a little brighter from dusk till dawn*. Push a bit farther and see that the harrowing night shades over a utopia in the making!