Standing on the balcony, he watches ferns sprouting from cracks in the darkwaterstained house in front. The tiny bathroom window facing him lights up, and he watches to see a distorted figure in the glass, doing nothing exciting, although he can't quite tell. Clouds (just clouds, thank you, not wisps or cottonballs of them) survey the city, and he raises his head to them, frowning at the white light of the sky. He is glad only to stand against the half wall of the balcony with clothes dripping water before him, contemplating nothing, not even there of his own choosing, really, but the house is hot and dull. There is no poetry about him, and no charming thought fluttering in his mind. In fact, he is a cluster of little negations of all things lovely.
He only waits in the mild accents of breeze, and waits for the electricity to return so he can watch NDTV Profit.
6 comments:
"He only waits in the mild accents of breeze, and waits for the electricity to return so he can watch NDTV Profit."
darn, that sounds like my father. WHAT is it about these channels?
charming thoughts come to very few, those who are able to see the poetry in a blackout. for the rest of us, there's ndtv profit.
NDTV profit... is that the situation with everyone's dad.. btw u shud see him now.. stress lines outlining his head... wat with the nifty behaving all pricey..
just occurred to me, we need the people who are clusters of little negations of all things lovely. if we didn't we wouldn't have kindred spirits.
LOVED IT. you make things come alive.
and I think you've captured those periods of nothingness, of waiting for something that we all have, wonderfully.
Thank you :)
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