Words, spoken once, can’t be repeated. They can be formed and delivered with the same tone and accent; but repetition, no. That moment in time, when they were said, the way they were, can never be recreated. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.
The morning dew, along with the azan, marks the beginning of each day for me. It doesn’t start the same old one though. It starts something new.
When that delicious food bite, fills in your taste buds for the umpteenth time in your favourite restaurant, the flavour hasn’t been replicated. It has taken effort, and expertise, and a lot of them both, to get to you the same experience. And yet, each experience is new.
I met this painter once. He said he couldn’t use the same muse twice. It just didn’t inspire him anymore. And then he showed me around fifty paintings of the same beloved. She was in a different position, in a different state and a different state of mind in each of them. And therefore, each painting was different. And new.
Boredom and monotony then, I think, can’t be the fault of just words. It is possibly the lack of feelings behind those words.
Perhaps that is why everyday in the rainy season doesn’t infuse poetry into your ink.
And perhaps that is why, my dad doesn’t get bored of I love Youing my mom. Because he never repeats it. He just says it again!