Answers.

She sat by the edge of the ocean – a spot of her choice, a light sand beach – and watched the shenanigans of waves for hours.  Every time a wave appeared to rise and strode towards the shore, she hoped it would bring a corked bottle, with a rolled paper in it and all her questions answered on it in an unambiguous, straight-forward and clear language.  But odd enough, all the questions had chosen to elude her in that moment, and seemed so unclear that even if a bottle were to wash ashore with answers in them, she would not have deciphered them.   

Or maybe, she had come a long way in her journey, that all the questions that seemed big and important once, have been subtly answered over a period of time – no thunder lightening, no message in bottles, no red sky, but with her constant realizations and handful of epiphanies.


Now she needed a new set of questions, a fresh lot.  But she was too numb to feel any agony that would make her gut scream out “Why” or “How” or “When”.   So she would rather sip her lager today, thoughtlessly, and hope that she will be bestowed upon with answers to questions she didn’t have.  

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