Sunday, March 21, 2010


As I lay there wondering what it was that was said to me, I decided upon letting it go for a while. It was a feeling that can be described as lucidity. I was woken up by yet another call for hot samosas. They were relentless, hell bent on selling every last piece of a cold potato snack deep fried in unknown oils. As I lay there preferring not to spread my legs from a near fetal position, I decided to reminisce upon what was said to me.

“It’s not every day that this happens, but it was quite a journey.”

Nothing too profound to engage myself with, but that feeling of a boxer punching my insides ever since I left that quaint little village, too urban to qualify as a village, but nonetheless one, I couldn’t help feeling that there was something amiss, and I could do nothing to fill that void except to spread my legs and make the journey to a the toilet. As I sat there relieving my strained bladder, I realized I was in love for the lack of a better word.