Pockets

 Pockets cordon off an area in space. They’re a small world within a world. 

I attended a book launch and signing today. 

The attendees were a pocket of last-remaining dwellers of a bygone era, with aristocracy in their background.

There was a world outside the walls of that place buzzing incessantly with the hum of activities of a burgeoning population. And in here, inside the walled garden, was a world echoing the last traces of a city from more than half a century ago. 

Pockets are interesting things. They make you feel one way inside and another way outside them. It becomes hard to span the extremes.