Flights of fantasy

Fingertips riding the wind. Faint currents of a wind that's not really there. It's floating them up, then again swooping them down.

Snatches of different moments, frozen in time, and then dissolving. Sometimes into another moment, sometimes into the darkness of the surrounding night. It's funny how one thing can remind you of another, seemingly completely unrelated. Except for some minor accidental likeness.

Riding in a cab late at night on the streets of Bombay again. I guess it's a cliché, but the more things change, the more they stay the same. Some memories are here to last.

Currently: wondering
Listening to: Rihanna - Right now (ft. David Guetta)