Sunday 7 November 2010

You may have problems but seriously mine are worse...

The flowers on this table are red and a yellow that caresses traits of an orange glow. The candles in the burgundy jars are white and have little ribbons with pearl knots wrapped around them. The tablemats are a red wine color that glistens in the light of the golden colored chandelier above. The table is a circular thick glass on a mahogany base that seats six, on high comfort chairs. The table rests on a Persian rug that is fixed in the center of a four-sided beige carpet leading unto a wooden floor. The entrance to this room houses two wooden African stool drums on opposite sides that seat small trees in rounded pan vases.
The walls are white and rise to the ceiling covered on its four corners with saucers and embroidery from different cities. The room lies dormant in a large house that has enough rooms to keep more than four couples comfortable. The house is one of many in a neighborhood where people only really shake hands when one of them needs to borrow something. The neighborhood lies wounded in a city that has its own laws far and beyond any around it. The city is out there fighting for its life in a state that can’t keep up with its taxes. The state is challenging others like it itself when the country it is in struggles amongst others for power in the world. The world is asking itself when it would be crushed by space objects traveling in its orbit and escaping the anger of larger ones. The objects in space are barely surviving when one universe decides to swallow another. The universe doesn’t know where it came from because it can’t think beyond its current form.
Alas! The man sitting at this table is holding his head between his hands and wondering whether he is making any sense out of what he is writing. He has finally come to the conclusion that it is so easy to forget what is around you when you are too busy focusing on what is not…

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