I only visualized, smelt  and saw, maybe only on two Fridays in two months.This kind was’ my Friday only thing’ and maybe a blue moon Sunday thing too.   I loved it, I still adore it . My dream come true or my never a dream that came true.

I love where I smelt it first , I crave the smell. With it comes a sense of fulfillment, a sense of a content woman with content, in love with what she sees and visualizes,imagines, fantasizes  etc.. but remember ‘ THE POWER OF IMAGINATION…’

I spent seemingly short but long nights engrossed not in deep thought but in imagination,trying to sync with the person on the other end- THE 19TH century author,do not ask me who but ask me which books. Am a woman who reads. Such a woman is content.

I fell in love with the books , I fell in love with the smell of old books- the scent of pages once turned tens of years past-the unturned pages,brownish-yellow in color.So, in fiction, i make dates with old-scented books and imaginary Victorian houses.

Though my ultimate love is the high ceiling  Victorian  house,with the type of chandeliers am yet to see, depicted in the  books . If only i believed in incarnation, i would have wanted to see me in England in 1880.Definitely not as a dog,just a beautiful ballerina,swift in her steps,her scent wafting through her Victorian house.

I finally got to see a Victorian house in Kenya . Its defiance for time is outright .In its tatters it still stands tall, ceiling still high . Though its windows and doors are broken it’s the ‘last man standing’ in its environs,somewhere in the middle of nowhere between Kilimani and Lavington. I pass by every two random Fridays in 2 months to see this house that smells like unturned pages of old novels .

Today, I used the southern bypass for the first time . I  was staring out  the window ,thinking how am 21.25 years old, how i had a CRAZY 2015, how Langata looks a little different and how T-mall imebeat  and how the bypass isn’t actually all glam like I thought, then AHA! a new age Victorian house!

Clearly i have ‘a like mind ‘somewhere! And these, are my real and imaginary memories .Of the love i have never had , only seen, read and imagined. Victorian




A woman who reads.


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