“But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the ground fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the colour of gold. Think of how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…” -The Fox to Little Prince (Chapter twenty-one, The little Prince by Antoine De Saint-Exupéry)
Amongst the other intricate lessons of life, if there’s one thing that The little Prince has taught me, it’s that there is such cryptic beauty in being tamed by someone, as much as it is in taming them. I for one don’t know if I’ve had a fox of my own, but I’ve had my rose. I’ve had my rose, my lily, my dandelion and even the flowers that bloomed in the lap of wilderness whose sight I never saw again. So now the spring greets me with sweet fragrances instead of allergies.
I’ve never had lovers, just almost lovers that left a taste of unrequited love in my mouth as they kissed me goodbye. Closures only help so much to break the habit of being in love with them, until you see a smile that reminds you of a lost one’s smile and in the next moment bring you such agony when their eyes, nose and being don’t match. It’s almost as if the fate teases the feelings out of you with no outlet to channel them into. What do you do with that love?
I’m so grateful for all the memories I made through my travels or even the unexpected adventures in my mundane institutionalised life. I’m so glad for the music, movies, places and cultures I got exposed to and developed a taste for thanks to the people who introduced me to them. But I can’t help the nostalgia that comes gushing in or the craving for that friend when I encounter a song that we’d danced to like crazy children. The music is still here, but the moment’s passed and they’re gone. Do they even miss me? Do they even remember those moments with me? Am I the only one wearing the leash? Am I the only fox here?