Caution : What you could come across in the process.
Insignificant references to my life, an abstract and distracted thought sequel, monotony, inconsistency, vague vague perception, whorish intellectualism, feminist bullshit, armchair activism, causes I try to relate to, sharp sarcasm, even sharper criticism, frivolous details.
Nonetheless Happy Reading.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The bark of a soul stuck out of the window, resting his hands on the cool, watery marble surface. The surface bore sufficient space to accommodate a delicately carved Victorian vase and a bland photo frame engulfing a picture of a few dearly beloved people who held a say in his life. The picturesque house lived on the basis of its own minute details and observations. They flourished in an eerie sort of way. They made way for things beyond themselves. He watched his blistered fate and the hands that shaped them. He waited for the storm to shape itself. He waited for her.
She arrived at half past noon. A Picasso painting greeted her on the way to the living room. A Picasso painting and the truth. Imagine...The distortion of a view, of something so bearably distinct – all rendered productive in the premises of a square or something close to a square. There it stood before you as you entered the house.
‘Do you realize that I am at my happiest when I’m with you? Why would you want to take that away from me?’ With that said she left. I had this image of her walking down the street after she said this. Hurrying up, distracted, ignorant of a rare zebra striped butterfly that passed her by, adjusting her bag time and time again, mumbling words of comfort to herself…quite seemingly the image of a well dressed schizophrenic. Do you really believe that a couple of words have the power to change the course of your life indefinitely? Precisely at this junction in her life she’d have liked to believe so. This particular junction where the streets ran into each other mindlessly. Disgraced were the clouds sharing her plight of inadequacy and dissatisfaction.
She was the savory entity of his life.. The crazed aspect of which he would have liked to and wanted to preserve. Sweat trickled down his chest that sultry afternoon. He woke up aware of what he had lost. Was she gone for good? He would miss those staggering “High’s and low’s” of her life that she subjected him to. Wounded pride- all in all a tricky affair. Perhaps he should forget- her peppery breath and the scar on her back, there she stood – his prized possession, unknown to the world and now gone in the flash of a second. Lost.
Take a peek at all the possibilities that lie ahead … they never seem to disappear.
The pickle of thoughts grew rancid with the passing moment. We are all lonely and at the end of the day she might have felt sorry for X had she known that X had crawled into her bed last night teary eyed and sullen. The guy on the phone was right. He’d told her life was beautiful. How? She must have asked him. Look around he must have said bemused and disgusted. Conversations were the castles she dreamt of living in, conversations that you could prick amongst a bunch of bubbly balloons – the bursting of which gave you a glimpse of glittering confetti now all over you shining like stars.
X was well versed at survival – that’s why she seemed so fake. Survival is incidental not an art to be mastered. X had empty spaces that Y chose to fill that’s why I hated Y as well. Darkness loomed over the city of X and Y, this darkness was the shadow I cast. It highlighted my arms, back, waist and everything I was ignorant about. This darkness was moving away. Y thought me to be hollow and couldn’t fill the empty spaces because he couldn’t and wouldn’t fathom the emptiness of the heart. This is when I realized that… men don’t see what they don’t want to see.