Dear Friend of my heart,
For years I have written songs for the singular joy of music and for the pleasure of those who would listen to them with kindness and love. In the most pleasurable company of the most delightful musicians I have come to become one myself. Here is a little something for you, as for the beautiful stranger who left without ceremony. I listened to her leave.
Oh beautiful stranger, the spirit of inquiry seems to have abandoned me in your soft presence. I find myself to be caught somewhere in between worlds, not knowing what or where. Perhaps this is a place for poetry. It does not have anything to do with the projects I have undertaken. Instead of being a mute observer I could have participated in our togetherness. I did look at you, my body towards you from a safe distance. It was too far even from a smile, let alone confessions. You left. I watched you leave. From a seemingly inconsequential corner of my eye, I listened to your leaving.
Where do I figure in your story? This moment, in all probability, will disappear from your life, from your memories, without a trace. You will not remember me. You will perhaps never think of me again. You will never know what you meant to me in this moment. It might as well have never happened. We never really met, never became anyone to each other. There was no effective exchange, no transition with a transcript or a trace.
That is not entirely true. I do address this letter to you, oh beautiful stranger and to the admittance that for a moment in this quiet evening, you became the purpose of my existence.
I hope you are happy and speaking to your beautiful strangers before they leave. Eager to hear from you.
Much Love,
Prashant
Story Of The Footloose 
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