Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Clueless Kids

I have memories, far too many, actually, of being out-flooded by my stubborn streams, whose repetitively confirmed idiopathy couldn’t gather much weight to stand as a defense against the imminent damage to my perceptive realms, only to twist me more, to leave me a bit more beseeching for salvation at times, a bit more callous to the persistent pain at times, and most of the time, way too much drawn away from the things around, everything else, that is, not because of their relative trivialities but because everything seemed to have an  ever-active mode that blatantly meant to say ‘like-me,’ and I was not looking for something likeable; I was looking for something/ anything that would make sense.

And then there are kindergarten kids; one cries and the other immediately cries, not imitating, just being na├»ve and irrational as ever. And there, in that irrationality, paradoxically, is that rationale of connection, which crushes the wall of the well of solipsism and something about it, if not the flood itself, makes sense. (Seems like I have company; and suddenly, flood can’t be that bad.)