p for paradox.

"I'M SIGNIFICANT!!!…screamed the dust speck."

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abstract, who me?

It’s not an unfamiliar tickle of random thoughts. When all she hears from her restless senses is to do ‘something‘. “How aimless could you get?” she blurts.

The feeling of just being a minuscule soul in the cosmos holds her back, almost seizing her thoughts. Suddenly shooting her capabilities down to a level of inept. Making her indifferent. Indifferent to the world, indifferent to herself. She is reminded of a time when she loved everything abstract – art, writings, love or just plain conversations. That was the time when abstract meant deviant. And deviant meant fun. Maybe queer. Maybe eccentric. But definitely reminding her of her(once-upon-a-time)self.

She wonders when and why do wavelengths match. Shouldn’t they just swoosh past each other and penetrate into infinity? And not take birth again in the form of trivial lessons of wisdom? Who set a benchmark for wisdom anyways? Where was the line drawn between sense and ignorance? Why did they say she is distracted when all she was, was curious. And well, who decided what sanity would look like?

The appetite for obscurity remains. The hunger for subtleness lingers. She smiles as the mind ponders over the repartees and re-repartees of life.

My inner voice says these are trivial issues. My mom, though, thinks otherwise.

Is it too abstract? Or is it just me?

Encouraged by the prompts ‘Deviant’,’Minuscule’ and ‘Trivial’ @ 3WW!

that couch at the Barista

Mat is my childhood friend who lives practically at the end of my street back in Country. So while passing by, she would end up ringing the bell and by default we would walk to the Barista less than half a km away. It was like I would know its her, and even before opening the door, I would change into anything else, better or worse than what I was already wearing and cruise out. But this time I got an sms from her to meet there directly as she was coming straight from her office.


So I was waiting at the same couch at the Barista. The couch which was like Forgiveness. Just deserved, not demanded. The same couch where Mat and I would sit for hours and chat or unchat, depending on the mood you see. It was located right under the corner camera which, i do not know till date, even recorded anything in the first place. But we would be like this enthralled audience watching the world navigate from one time zone to another.
As I settled myself at ease, crinkling the paper tissue in my hand, the regular barista behind the counter realises I am waiting for my company. So he gets me the ‘usual’. We sometimes were lucky to be served. In a self-service place? Wow, the little pleasures of life!

It was a normal evening. Various species of couples with the typical three options of expressions.
First, when they are both looking into each others eyes and give a damn to the latte sitting just next to them, demanding the tasty attention, but ignored. Disrespectful, I say.
Second, when they are both looking at totally different things. The guy’s eyeballs taking a detour at the chick behind the counter and the lady’s eyeballs navigating vehemently at a trendy hidesign purse relaxing at the other corner of the cafe. No, the Louis Vuitton types did not really come to that cafe. And well, boring situation I say.
Third, when both of them are looking at the same thing, together. Maybe at the crossword in the newspaper or the malnourished kid polishing shoes outside the Barista. True love, I say.

Anyways, so I get a bit restless now waiting for my true coffee buddy. Its pretty much simple. The foundation of our friendship was the love of coffee (and well, the disastrous attempts at morning jog). But it grew stronger as we mutually started demanding the company of the coffee connoisseur in each of us. Don’t get me wrong. We are ‘just friends’, with our respective love lives in parallel universe, which could be one of the topics of conversation at the couch, only if we were done with our plans of starting our own cafe, or traveling the world or well, trying out that new kebab place.

Waiting in premonition, I look at the watch and realize its been almost 7 minutes past our rendezvous time. So I get impatient enough to call her. Surprise surprise! The message I received from her today was actually a day old. Thanks to the pathetic ‘express yourself’ telecom network, it reached its destination (read me) almost 24 hours late. Mat and I started giggling on the phone as our voices crinkled. And because I had not replied a day before, she had done what I was doing here today.

Exploiting the license to have another cuppa koffie, with oneself.

Encouraged by Three Word Wednesday

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