She was inching ever closer to the edge of fountain, struggling playfully against the restricting grasp of her dad. She just wanted to get closer to the waters and inspect its beauty.
Was thunderstruck. I had sat there for so long, yet was blind to the cascading waters. It seemed as though i had became immune to beauty, desensitised by its presence. How did this happen? I was once fascinated by this very fountain too.
And so, I ceased eating and began staring at the dancing liquid. Slowly, I was drawn into the vortex.
The cobalt colours swirled in rhythmic motions, foaming and frothing. Jets of it fired, arcing through the air. Pools of it rose and receded.
It was an orchestra of grace, a painting of vibrancy, a theatrical drama.
Glad that I had sat down and appreciated this melody.
*Always a continuous battle to keep one's eyes open.