Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ dared not to stop. For last time QJ couldn’t bear the pandemonium that started within when she dared to stop and nothing happened.
With fragments of that dollhouse in one hand and the key to its door in another, walking often becomes cumbersome and a dull routine.
Only lightning wakes QJ, though her afterthoughts always make an indelible note to herself to wake up before being struck. QJ later laughs loudly looking at her scars.
Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ glanced at her umbrella. Tap! Tap! The umbrella changes its colour yet again, confusing its owner for a dash time.
Fill in the dash with a pleasant-sounding time period, a warm moment, and a lovely realisation. QJ wonders why she never tumbled while gazing up at the umbrella or the sky, maybe she should have stopped and asked the path.
Instead, QJ makes a funny face, fidgets, and gestures to no-one around her that… oops, she almost fell. Click! Train of thoughts leave a compartment at a station at this moment.
QJ ate dreams, but not the ones that came true. Work makes you hungry for more work, it makes you kind towards your dreams. And this is your prize.
Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ is joined by the others. All assuming it strongly that everyone knows better than them.
QJ didn’t agree or disagree for hours full of ages and once upon a time when she did, they all left her immediately to follow someone else.
Just a mangy, horribly plump in the middle, slow dog stayed with QJ. It smiled (or didn’t), but those remaining teeth, all-dancing in opposite direction made her feel that every 21st-century disease, malady, sickness was represented by that slow dog.
Hell yeah! QJ cried for the dog didn’t die, but just slowed down further and sat on the path, resting, waiting. Hell lingers.
Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ thinks about faces, veneer in fashion, layers, surface deep dialogues, and her reactions.
A trap! Superficial flamboyant messages received and sent. Afraid of any change, she blindly accepts repetition.
Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ takes out an empty map and begins to draw.
Lines start to run and form a track. QJ retraces her steps and finds her first direction.
- Shakespeare’s Sonnet 107 and Timelessness
- Jasmine-Rich Raga
- Not Lithic
- Spirited Away and the Art of Forgetfulness
- O Apache!