The house at the end of road, by the wide lake is the most beautiful
home I have ever seen. The red limestone rooftop with blue grainy walls
and porch in front give an excellent feast for eyes to feed on and one
can never tire gazing at it. The adjacent glade, with pine trees and
laburnum tops, with daffodils and Gulmohar flowers beam a red and yellow
light that grazes through the branches from the sun. A house of single
story, with an attic on the top that has a small window. One might guess
it had no more than 4 rooms, but he would be surprised on seeing it up
close. The sheer structure is built in an intelligible way, that a hut
from outside transforms into a palace on the inside.
It wasn't a surprise when the man who lived in it was keen on inviting guest more often, as he had no family. The house would be bustling with cheers and merriment of guests that could be heard from afar with constant blaring of horns of cars jostling for car space to park.The amounts of friends he invited always surprised me as the man had not invited me, the immediate neighbor in this whole wide glade spread over 100 miles.Seldom, I had seen him reading a book,though weird it seemed- why, would a man with a big house read it in the attic light and not in a comfy chair or bedroom.
People - friends and old school teacher, had declared my observational skills as exemplary and had said a thing or two in appreciation. Encouraged by their discovery, I had started gazing out whenever I had a chance. I enjoyed viewing that man, with his daily mundane activities. Sometimes he would monger with one of his pretty guests unaware, I was getting a treat and eating popcorn. Wouldn't it be fun if I indulged him in a conversation someday?, I would often wonder what would be his response.
Would he be nosy and prod or a gentleman. After all I am married, and his rich facial features and my average ones, might provide a juxtapose in the condition we meet. His name is apt fr a gentleman -Mr. Gatsby. Sometimes I feel he too looks at my house in evenings and nights and knows that I have my eyes fixated on him while goes about his day. It would be interesting to chat with him some day.
It wasn't a surprise when the man who lived in it was keen on inviting guest more often, as he had no family. The house would be bustling with cheers and merriment of guests that could be heard from afar with constant blaring of horns of cars jostling for car space to park.The amounts of friends he invited always surprised me as the man had not invited me, the immediate neighbor in this whole wide glade spread over 100 miles.Seldom, I had seen him reading a book,though weird it seemed- why, would a man with a big house read it in the attic light and not in a comfy chair or bedroom.
People - friends and old school teacher, had declared my observational skills as exemplary and had said a thing or two in appreciation. Encouraged by their discovery, I had started gazing out whenever I had a chance. I enjoyed viewing that man, with his daily mundane activities. Sometimes he would monger with one of his pretty guests unaware, I was getting a treat and eating popcorn. Wouldn't it be fun if I indulged him in a conversation someday?, I would often wonder what would be his response.
Would he be nosy and prod or a gentleman. After all I am married, and his rich facial features and my average ones, might provide a juxtapose in the condition we meet. His name is apt fr a gentleman -Mr. Gatsby. Sometimes I feel he too looks at my house in evenings and nights and knows that I have my eyes fixated on him while goes about his day. It would be interesting to chat with him some day.
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