Thesis Journal Entry Three

It felt as if event was the sculptor of this space. There were a set of stairs of different risers and cut in angles. There were a few double triple the normal, with interesting little shapes extruded from the floor, acting as sitting spaces, there were groups of people sitting around at irregular intervals; some deep in discussion, some just laughing and others in their own little worlds, deep in thought or at work. There was wonderful light in that little place, a courtyard so full of energy and excitement. In front of me, on the landing 4 feet above me, was a sculptor in a corner of the shaded area, working away at a female figure over 3 feet tall. He kept pressing the clay at certain places, and smoothing it out at other spots. He was so absorbed in his work, just watching him I felt lost in that little show of his focus, until music began playing behind me. I looked around to see a guitarist fit comfortably on one of the landings, his fingers moving rhythmically with such gentleness across the guitar strings. The beautiful tunes struck chords in my brain, I enjoyed that moment so much. I walked up to the step next to him and sat there, quite at ease.

I decided to head on forward after a good amount of time. The sun was setting now; there was light red spread across the grey sky. As I was walking towards my working spot, I noticed a narrow alley on my left, with a façade on one side and another wall of 3 feet on the other. There was soft light just passing through the area. On the end of this alley was a tree with an immense shade. The wind was light and cool. I walked towards that end; there was a bench on one side coming out of the wall, with a smaller shelf like table on its side. There was a print maker sitting on that bench, knife in hand, engraving something on a slim slate of wood. That soft setting light was falling on part of this slate, giving depth to the cuts she was making. She looked up and smiled a nod to me. I smiled back and then turned right to climb up some smaller steps leading up. An interesting spectacle greeted me on top. There was a group of young casual youngsters, clad in tights and t-shirts. They were practicing and choreographing a song being played in the background. Resting next to a corner was a young girl, typing on a laptop resting on her lap; another space of such positive energy.

I moved on forward. On my right was a small façade with a wide open window. I could see a painter bending over his easel, brushes in hand, sometimes adding delicate strokes to his canvas, at other times just moving more boldly with stronger faster strokes. When he looked up it turned out to be a friend I had just recently made one evening at the musical night at the central courtyard. I waved at him, but didn’t stop there.

At the end of this path I could see a part of the cafeteria courtyard and other mezzanines sticking out of its left wall. The place called out at me, the smell of fresh pakoras and the sizzling sound of the oil made me want to go sit there for a cup of tea and samosa at this time of the evening.


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