An idea just whizzed past my mind. I’m trying hard to avert all its efforts to whizz any further.
It’s trying to run, run into that area in my brain, of which I have a limited access to. Its almost like it knows of this, like it’s conspired to tax me.
I close my eyes.
I purse my lips.
I clench my fists
I concentrate
and try desperately to pull it to a place in my head, from where I can see it clearly. But that bastard of an idea is a tough player. It runs farther away.
It sits beside me at the coffee shop.It laughs as it sees me reading Asimov while I try to figure out what the fuck a Compendium Trans-functioner is.
It rides a hexagon’s edge, jumps off it and slides across a table. I don’t know what significance the hexagon or that sun mica top table hold in my memory – but it rode and it slid.
Sharp, shiny daggers fling into the nothingness on my left. This, while I hold a dartboard in my right hand.
Water. Under its surface, then on it.
Tea, iced. 3 bucks. D-school. Dante’s Inferno. Sighs, laughs, conversations that lead to nowhere.
And then… just then … as I lose myself to this beauty in all white, the fucker just vaporises- the idea. In fact I can’t even remember what the idea was about anymore, or what triggered it for that matter.
Fuck.Usually, I’d try again. But this loud, sadistic toned blunt Bangla that keeps pounding on my eardrums just won’t let me.
3 comments:
Picasso said, 'Everything you can imagine is real'.
you talk like an ad guy now! anyhow, you do justice to the matter.. the issue that worries every creative person on this earth...IDEA!!which eludes u like nothing else does!! an idea can change your life! or it cant also...like in your case..
however, its a very good bit of idea...writing about the idea..its very well compiled..work of the moment..very real, personal and temporal..well done!
I like the wway you play with temporal elements, very random..very modernist..good, you've come a long way
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