Its Kevin Roberts vs Bill Bryson and Kevin won. Because he is the one with all the love. Bill just has history going for him. No love. So he lost. Sounds like a rap song? That’s because right now Outkast is belting out Bombs over Baghdad on my PC. I have only 35% of juice left in my batteries. It won’t be long before it dries off. I hope the main power supply is restored before that. For some strange reason I am now mentally in Dxb at the Aerosmith concert. I drove all the way down for that concert. I didn’t have to pay for the tickets as my friend paid for it. I am now walking with them from the parking lot looking at all the Harleys and people from all walks of life. Steven Tyler was a riot. So was Joe Perry. So was the belly dancer who pirouetted with Steve for the ending song. I saw many familiar faces there. Only one recognized me. For the others I was a seen-somewhere-before face.
I have to write. Those were the words that escaped the dying man's lips. He was found lying unconscious near a mountain of blank paper. His autopsy revealed over exhaustion as the reason. But what did he want to write so badly that it killed him, no one knows. The task was designated to the junior cop who was part of the investigation team. Let's call him Namura. So here we are with Namura in a room with the mountain of blank paper. He is awed as to why should there be so many papers near a dying man. He picks a sheet on the top. He studies it. It's as blank as blank papers can be. No pencil or pen has violated its virgin whiteness. Namura thinks of the white bed sheets back home. He is tired. All he wants is to crash on his bed. He feels angry about the whole situation. Here I am, staring at a blank piece of paper, wondering why someone who wanted to write so badly didn't write a single word, while the whole world is sleeping on their comfy beds. He wanted to tear the ...
Comments
Post a Comment