What is wrong with you? He said He looked her over. She was wearing her best outfit yet; new pumpkin coloured coat, the new black skinny that made her look taller, new brown quirky ankle boots and a band t-shirt: The Droogs (she made up the band, created the logo and printed on the tee). It's the best because it's the newest. what do you mean what is wrong with me?! It's the same old song. You're lost. Yes! Again! Alright, let's retrace your steps. The earliest memory I have is of the abandoned green kiosk- Yellow. It's green today! Okay. So I was standing in front of the green kiosk holding my favourite bottle of nothing when I heard a low moan… The usual bed bug? Yes. Poor soul. Maybe we should get her a Doctor. Bed bug doctors are extinct. Oh. And so I turned around and headed towards her… fancy an ice cream cone? Sure, but we'll regret this later, it's very cold! She smiled. I asked her what is wrong? She said she’s been broken a...
Could someone make a up country where artists are to roam freely? A country where you have money for food and drink and endulging in luxury, but, where you only write in the odd chance your writer's block finds something better to do. A county where you set your alarm at noon and never sleep at night because you only fall sleep when you have totally exhausted your physical and/or mental energy, or not, but it's okay. Mornings are prosaic, anyway. A country where book lists are more important than shopping lists, but you can afford both; the government covers that. Matter of fact, the government came to the conclusion that forests should prevail the country's landscape to make up for all the book-printing, thus, it was deemed necessary of citizens of the Untitled Country to live in forests (make no mistake that this country is governed by a communist regime; this notion is a segway for what I'm about to say next. Merely written to annoy those who could be annoyed and o...
ode to my subconscious : I always remember my dreams. My subconscious is a well of pure imagination and I appreciate it being a constant and reliable source of inspiration. The following is a dream I had last night. Calle Montera, Madrid 1922. Source: Pinterest So, I found myself walking in Calle Montera in Madrid, Spain with my cousins; they were visiting from Egypt and I was determined to show them around and also show them how I live and stop having to pretend or "soften myself and blur my personality around the edges" for them. Ergo I took them to a fictional café from a distant memory, it was night-time but the lights the small café were emitting were so strong it was almost day-time. We each took a seat in the terrace and me and one of my cousins, let's call her Mia, started collecting the orders; we went to the counter to order and I almost bit back mentioning that this was a very famous bar for cocktails and that it's not your typical café, ...
Comments
Post a Comment