Translucent sheets on the table in front, top view. Fat grumpy fingers mark out a square that's supposed to be the missing plinth line. Clean well-cut nails scratch the surface along every individual plan. Two fat cheeks, a mouth that disappears between them, shriek about how one who doesn't know the basics shouldn't be trying anything this fancy. Anger, and its enough just to start and end on the silly order of those nails and why they would not belong to a hardworking fellow. Plinth lines are obvious. I wish the plinth under me would just grow and take me through the roof.
A whiff and something reminds me of a day in summer during school. The butter sheets, of course. I'd seen them before. The brook by the road, trees on its sides. Me lying in between, Elina and Rahul on either side. A tissue whirls in the eddie under the bridge. Translucent with the oil we didn't eat during supper. The tissue opens along the folds. Rays of sunset come beneath the bridge and through the paper. Elina: "You know, if all three of us are one and you're lying in the middle , it makes you self-centered."
Yes, yes fat cheeks as my mom said I am self-centered and because I still think of her I am immature. But, I'll always be.
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A tissue whirls in the eddie under the bridge
reminds me of that scene of 'American Beauty' with that polythene dancing in the wind!
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