Places are strange. With some you fall in love instantly, while some tease you and coax you to leave. I have experienced both. But some places just don't gel with you. While I always keep my eyes and mind open to a new place, I can immediately sense the feeling of being a bit stifled. I allow that to pass. I imagine that the place and I will gradually fall in love.
I have often wondered whether it is the place or the elements of a place which warm the insides. Do people matter when one does not like the place? What if the place is lovely but the people aren't? Does it make a difference?
I had imagined that I don't much like big cities. I was wrong. I like them. I like them to the extent of having a dispassionate relationship with them. It is a paradox. Cities like me. They seduce me with their neon lights and bright sights. They sometimes take me on never-ending journeys into labyrinths of pleasure and love. They have long trains and bus-rides. I love sitting inside those buses and trains imagining that it would last forever.
Sprinkling mountains, lushness of green and quiet nights: Can they satisfy me? Once they did. But that was a dream that was fulfilled. And I was young and willing to let go. I still would let go but the place does not allow me to.
Places and I have a strange love-hate relationship. What makes you like a place? What do you expect from a place? Tell me . . .
Image courtesy: Internet