One night, I recalled a glimpse of a memory. It was a visual which was dark, shiny, colourful and unclear, about watching fireflies in front of our old house. I became interested in that & I thought of going closer to the memory. The questions were why & how.
The same night I read a poem about fireflies by ‘Robert Frost’. It was so beautifully written, that I was moved by it. The poem also gave me an idea about how night gives a different life to the characters, how they begin to reveal themselves, they become personal & they glow before they turn dark.
Only a little later from first sharing this work, I realised that the feeling of not being able to go back to the place where I spent my childhood was the reason I felt the need to get closer to that memory. To find, in another unknown land, elements which seemed eerily similar to the fragments of my memories.
"Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.''
- 'Fireflies in the garden' by Robert Frost