The Invisible Reality

It was 5 PM in Bhaktapur.

I was sitting by my window, diary open, my favourite black ink pen in my hand but I was stuck.

I wanted to write about my day, pour my thoughts but my creativity was just blocked.

It felt like I couldn't find a single word.

I looked up at the sky for inspiration and that's when I saw it.

The thick, gray smoke from the brick kilns near my home.I've lived here my whole 20 years, but in that quiet moment it hit me, this is the invisible reality that I've learned to ignore.

While I was struggling to write my own story, the air was out there writing it's own story in the sky.

A story of a nature that is slowly losing its breath.How can we expect to feel light when the very air we breathe is so heavy? Nature doesn't have a voice to tell us it's suffocating.If the sky is too polluted to show it's colours, eventually we'll become too exhausted to tell our own stories.

We have to be the voice for the air, because right now, the smoke is the only thing speaking.