Ships that pass 14/09/2011
I stumbled, the heavy bag with the coriander bunch peeking out, slipping precariously. He stumbled too, his hands involuntarily stretched out to catch the coriander bunch. It didn't fall. Only the briefest of glances touched. My mouth turned downwards as it always does, when happy, when sad, when embarassed, when delirious; it is not particularly choosy about emotions for its movements. His mouth turned downwards too. He hastily removed the earphone from his right ear -- I saw this from the corner of my eye while my hand was removing my earphone from my left. A faint smile was exchanged in a moment that had already collided into the next -- the acknowledging of each other by the momentary stilling of private joys. So can two strangers find more than a thing in common in the briefest of time spans. Comments Your comment will be posted after it is approved. Leave a Reply | DisclaimerThis is where I will be fanciful, silly, unembarrassed, gushy, mushy, maudlin, giggly, and perhaps rarely, wise. I claim to be neither a poet nor a translator but here you might find me doing both -- writing poetry and translating all that I love. I claim neither to beauty of prose nor to wisdom of thought. I claim neither to originality nor to brilliance. I claim neither to appeal nor to sense. What I do claim to is this space -- endless space, mine and mine alone. To indulge. ArchivesJanuary 2012 |
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