Is there an age or year of your life you would re-live?
If I could re-live a year, it wouldn’t be for correction—it would be for immersion.
I’d return to the year I first met silence. Not the absence of sound, but the hush that follows a story well told. The year I walked barefoot on moss, Heard my grandfather whisper to the jungle, And watched a horse named Meghraj blink at me like he knew.
That year didn’t roar. It rippled.
And if I could re-live it, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d just listen more deeply.
