Friday, March 30, 2012



Yes, they were too old for that. Yes, they looked like lunatics. Yes, but they were young at heart, they had drunk from the fountain of youth, there was youth blood in them, and all those clich├ęs people talk about when they come across such an extraordinary sight. But they couldn’t help themselves. Something in their upbringing planted the seed of youthfulness in their ways. People would walk by and shake their heads in disapproval. Kids would walk by and giggle. Dogs would sit and stare at them. Cats would simply go about their lives.  Oblivious of everything, they played in the playground, till then always empty. One day, a kid joined them. The next day, he brought some friends. The friends brought the parents, suspicious of that sudden enthusiasm for the local playground. The parents brought their playful dogs. Even the cats cautiously ventured closer to the elderly people, with the treats, who now sat on the park benches. The playground came to life again. Yes, they were too old for this. Yes, they looked like lunatics. Yes. But they were alive!

Thursday, March 29, 2012


Clocktree Park

The kitten meets me every day. I sit by the fire and wait. There is a tacit agreement between the two of us. I don’t try to grab him and he sits close to me. The fire is on. I wait. The kitten is black and white. His eyes belong to two different worlds; one is blue, the other green. When he looks at me, I wonder what those eyes have already seen. Deep inside, I want to take that kitten home. I would be able to take care of him, feed him, give him a warm bed, and above all, companionship. But that kitten has a wild soul that drives him to stay outside, to be free. And so I just sit here, by the fire, and wait for him. That day the kitten walked towards me, sat by me and watched the fire with me. After a few minutes, he stood up. I stood up. And we walked away in different directions. The kitten will be a cat soon. And I’ll be here, every day, waiting for him, sitting by him and watching the fire together.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012



The kids settled down and the teacher pointed. No one really knew where she was pointing at. It was some unidentifiable area on the left wall. All the kids followed the invisible line connecting her finger to the wall. When they got tired, they turned back to the front and magically there was a word written on the board “UNFURL”.
“Ahm, Mrs. Brown, what does that mean?”
“Find out.”
There was a rustle and bustle in the classroom. Some kids went for the dictionaries, others turned their computers on. After a few minutes of agitation, one of the kids yelled “to unfurl - unroll, unfold, or spread out or be unrolled, unfolded, or spread out from a furled state". He was very proud of himself for having been the first.
The teacher nodded.
“Now, close everything and write a story with the word unfurl.”
A wave of protests swept through the room. It was too difficult, it was too complicated, what kind of word was that, why hadn’t she chosen an easier word for them to write about.
She raised her hand. All the kids got silent.
“Big commotions unfurled when the teacher asked the students to write a story using the word unfurl.”
The kids laughed.
“That easy?” one asked.
The teacher nodded.
“Now, it’s your turn.”
And the whole class went on to unfurl a lot of ideas written into sentences organized into paragraphs that unfurled amazing stories. A magazine was published with all the “Unfurled Stories”.
“What is the next word, Mrs. Brown?”
“We shall see, we shall see!” And the teacher smiled. She had them hooked. That was just the beginning!

Tuesday, March 27, 2012


Mare Serenitatis
 “Where are you?”
“In Wisconsin.”
“That’s on the other side of the world.”
“I know.”
“How are things going?”
“In Wisconsin, you mean?”
“I mean, for you.”
“Oh, they are fine. I’m in Wisconsin.”
“Stop saying that! You don’t sound happy at all.”
“Well… I did have a bit of a problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ am sitting here, in my Wisconsin house.”
“Yes, and…?”
“I have a problem…”
“What problem?”
“I killed him.”
“You what?”
“Yeah, now I am going to a Wisconsin prison most likely, after talking to a Wisconsinite judge.”
A pause.
 “Everyone wears white.”
“Ok, where are you?”
“In Wisconsin?”


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