Holding onto my tea cup with both hands, I sit in the garden, staring as if sitting in alien surroundings. I do not drink the tea, I hold on to the mug only for warmth. So, I imagine that it gives of warmth forever, and that it doesn't goes cold, and that I don’t let it spill onto the grass, deliberately.
I watch the jasmine hedge for several minutes; it’s just up to the boundary wall now. I envision it growing and growing, until it sways violently in the wind, its top amongst the clouds. Ignoring the reality where upon it was cut down each time it grew to the level of the wall.
And there are several unseen rainbows in the sky, the ones that only I can see. And those people in the stationary cars that weren't there. The Kite that flies, cutting through the trees, yet moving only in that particular square that is bounded by those barbed wires. For these are those moments that I experience now, the ones where imagination becomes reality, and there is truth in the moments that were not even happening. But they were, and only you knew.
I look on as something falls from the nest in the tree. It falls down fast, blurry and off white. An egg. It runs down rapidly, landing somewhere in the green, that cushions its fall, maybe. Hopefully the mother will find it there, whole. And I’ll pretend that later on I did not see the carcass of a tiny featherless bird with thousands of ants moving to and fro over its lifeless body.