.
The quiet was all around. There was only the sound of the cars rushing by on the highway and the gentle whiz of the ceiling fan.
The quiet was inside her. Like the quiet of a tigress crouching in the shadows of the tall grass before she leaps for the kill. Or the quiet of a monk who has overcome his weaknesses and meditates naked on the top of a mountain. Or perhaps the quiet of the senile man who squats on the corner of the subway tunnel, whispering to himself; his unkempt beard brushing on his knees as he rocks back and forth.
She lay her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes. There are people out there on the highway who speed to get to office, or speed to get home. But she would rather just stay where she is.
.
The quiet was all around. There was only the sound of the cars rushing by on the highway and the gentle whiz of the ceiling fan.
The quiet was inside her. Like the quiet of a tigress crouching in the shadows of the tall grass before she leaps for the kill. Or the quiet of a monk who has overcome his weaknesses and meditates naked on the top of a mountain. Or perhaps the quiet of the senile man who squats on the corner of the subway tunnel, whispering to himself; his unkempt beard brushing on his knees as he rocks back and forth.
She lay her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes. There are people out there on the highway who speed to get to office, or speed to get home. But she would rather just stay where she is.
.
Hey....i wonder the way u write n as i start reading, there goes painting flowing in my mind... speechless. :(
ReplyDelete@Vinod: I can say the same about your paintings. Inspiring. I guess it's a cycle :D
ReplyDeletehave u received my painting...
ReplyDeleteSomehow I could relate to it
ReplyDelete