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Wednesday, April 20, 2016

And Then? It Rained.

It was a moody morning,the Sun was up high.The 9 a.m's siren played through the nerves of the soundwaves themselves and the sky was clear but rather vaguely colourless. Ada rode her feet until the watery bathroom floor danced as if a thousand oceans moving together under her feet,glancing at the quite reflections of shadows that talked to the secrets of the dimmed walls.
The mirror looked back at her.She silently retreated with a kind of smile that whispered the spark in her intelligent yet calm eyes.The disturbed sleep of yesterday hadn't proved to be much fruitful in covering her beauty ; something that only made her wearier lately.
The shower brought down the Nile to her bosom and flowed down her sleepy legs.The fabric,which was a combination of red and black - covered down the errors of the ancient ages ; the significance of yielding to circumstances made things feverish - though never tasteless.
Insomnia generally brings out one's whirling cries in the form of anti-peristalsis.Ada quickly made herself comfortable to the touch of cold water that ran down her oesophagus,down,down...deeper.

There was a ring at the bell outside.A call,as it is said.She piled her hair into an untidy bun and nearly strolled through the doorway while still plunging the chopstick through the waves of messy hair.It was expected,he was here.He was here to talk,to nurture another conversation that would go in vain,would be forgotten in no time.He was just here,at this point of time,to create hallows of spoken pathways,dig tunnels in her superficiality and then like a fool,be satisfied by her calm endeavour and pretence.Mellowed words,they say.Only dark roads,unspoken oblivion,only the same old cages,the rusted iron bars,the lost keys..."Hello,Miss."
"Yes,please come in...Come up to the place...I hope you don't mind.The place is not the tidiest on planet earth.I myself am not..."
"I am even untidier.Don't worry."
"Please take your seat...oh no,do sit here,no need to take the chair."
"Thank You.So,um...I came up to talk to you.I read what you write.That is why I want to talk to you."
Long pause.Gaps.Storms.Amicable surprise..."Uh?Okay.."
"I am so pleased,Miss and I'm so worried at the same time."
"Why worried?"
"I'll tell you.I'll tell you."
"So,here I am to talk to you about Sunrise and clouds and seagulls.They are all getting colder.Obscurer.Do you get my point?"
"Uh...perhaps,yes Sir.Please go on."

"Why do you write?"

"Because I can't do without it."
"What do you want to do?Forget it,I know what you want to do."
"You want to do something for the mass in your own way."
"Uh...huh? Yeah...Yes...Yes...history,history of the you fiddle in between,in between spaces,Sir?"
"I do.Tell me.What do you want to fiddle with for the rest of your life?"
"I have something for you.'Jonathan Livingston Seagull'....quotes from 'Illusions : The Adventures of A Reluctant Messaiah'...Maps...I have maps for you,can you guarantee me something,Miss?"
"Don't ever get lost.That is what scares me through and through."
Longer pause."I would try not to."
"I'll ask you the reason...after years...and years hence.I will ask you the questions behind questions and questions behind reason.People call them answers.Would you,or,say...answer?"
"I will try."
"Fly for the sake of flight,Miss.Not for the sake of impressions and hunger."
"Drones,drones and missiles fly.My platter of food turns to skulls and marrow,there are explosions inside my head...neuroticism...doesn't that..all of that...happen?I write..I do not know how not to...that is why.."
"That child,here on the East coast lay with his face down on the beach...he requested his father ..."Please don't die.""Please don't drown"That resonates as we all drown.We are on that same boat brother..and we drown we only drown..I clutch my sleeping daughter in midnights and laugh to the lunatics who creep in the dark..."
Mississippi still does...and rolls down from the mirror of the soul...
"Goodbye,dear.We'll meet someday,again.I rushed to you rained.."
Sighs.Footsteps.Treading pathways.
Roars...take a turn....turn into whirls...nauseate through mirrors,reflect through shadows,flows down the course of uprooted secrets.

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  1. Jonathan Livingstone Seagull with a dash of frustration?

    The style rises to eloquent poetry in some places.

    1. Jonathan Seagull of course didn't give rise to frustration. :P The other discussions did.
      Glad to know your opinion,Sir.


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