Froth glistened on the surface of a rock.The vines were mist laden and sublime.Far below people erractically dug into their freshly blistered salty corn and generously sipped some scintillating coffee.I am starting to tire of X but then again I have nothing to hold onto. Waterfalls are grand, even grander when the force of the water is unrelenting. I verge upon one rock at a time with bare feet and a flood of caution.The wet moss turns to dangerous slime.
'Don't be foolish..hold my hand.'
I pretend not to hear her.Shaky and wobbly I grab the underside of the rock above me instead- the one I have to climb next but have absolutely no idea how to proceed as yet.
The grandeur and beauty of the waterfall now forgotten I trudge on with the prospect of just getting through the damn thing without cracking a few bones or breaking my camera. (Ps not mine afterall)
'Are you absolutely sure you don't need a hand?'
She was a feet or two below me and her sisterly affection was nauseating.I haven't felt this nauseated since gulping down neat unadulterated vodhka last week.Don't you vouch for adulterated stuff at such times?
Adulterated love,degraded, depreciated stuff.
'I think I got it..' I yelled back.
But I didn't get it ofcourse.I never did.
Even if I did it was vague.
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