A dream discarded

If my life was to be videographed,
It'd be full of those silent moments,
All saying a thousand words,
In four different languages.

Full circle, in the other direction...

With the appearance of the full moon on the 30th of June 2007, my life ,of the past six months, came a full circle. With the final line in the school project I started with some 25 weeks back, visiting it first hand, doing and re-doing things for what seemed like an eternity of a very small duration, I finally finished the task. And walked out from that oasis in the desert known as Ayanagar Village.
But before I left, I went upto the terrace of Windmill, my workplace for the past six months. I went back in time to the first time I had been there. A foggy winter afternoon. I couldn't see a thing beyond the next building which incidentally is a school. It was cold outside, yet it felt as warm as it could. The place had welcomed me with its open arms.But then, as I remembered that warmth from the first day, a smog rose inside me, strangling me from within while smiling and singing. Then the mist cleared. I saw what was there around me. A huge terrace, with a queer li'lle dome sitting in a corner, tiny dots of lights beyond that. Aravali sure looks beautiful at night. Warm breeze touched my face, and I felt calm and cool from within.
This is where i was that day, and this is where I am today. The place holds a different meaning for me now. I was smiling that day, and I am smiling today. I feel different from inside now.
It's a full circle, in the other direction.
Fluctuating between then and now, I came downstairs. Walking down the bridge, my mind was going through snippets of events that occured in the short time that I was here, in this beautiful place. I heard the starting roar of a bullet. I knew whom it belonged to. I knew what it signified. It was another soul leaving this place. Just as I was. A lot of them left in the past two months. People I was attached to, people I talked to, people I didn't mind talking to. The fading sound of the bullet engine told me that the last of the lot is gone. It was time for me to go too.
I suffer from some weird memory problem, don't remember which one. But it has something to do with my brain locking up the events and only leaving their essence outside. Limited RAM, I guess. The next one month would see this office fading off into the background and I wouldnt remember much about this place. But what I would remember, for sure, is that it was one heck of a beautiful place. It had two amazingly lazy dogs and nine annoyingly noisy geese. I met and bonded with people that I came to adore and respect. I said my goodbyes. I could've stayed if I wanted to. I chose otherwise. I have no regrets.