Category: Thingries

Find Shelter

So what happened is you gave up? After breaking your back against the shores, back beaten, bone weary trudging through the swamps, you lay down your weapons and, what – just stopped?   As if all the working you had done was naught. As if your pursuit of happiness was simply just an idle walk that you went on and,…

Do not feed the animals

Mood: Desert wanderers are said to find water by trapping a monkey and feeding it a block of salt. Once hungry, the monkey would point the wanderers towards water. Of course then, to give the monkey a drink would be counter productive to their cause, no matter how much compassion one felt for the monkey’s predicament.   For the next…

….or whatever

Increasingly, it seems to be about how we relate to our purpose and how that relation then shapes who we are. And then how who we are shapes how we are perceived. Which shapes our experience. Which shapes the ways in which we are (dis)allowed to navigate. Which shapes who we think we are supposed to be. Which shapes our…

The Poet, the poeted and the poetee

One must agree though that grasping at straws is only useful if your mind understands the concept of holding on. Otherwise to clutch at straws is to guarantee not only ones own destruction, but that of straws as well. Maybe this is why straws are wary of humans. “I met a straw once” Mr x. He didn’t like being called…

From their slumber

They woke the sleeping giants from their eternal slumber. The great protectors of the realm, once silenced – stripped of their power, had gone into a thousand years of sleep. And it is during this sleep that they ravaged the land, stripped it of its minerals and its vitamins. Left it barren – unable to give life to the people.…

Soft Landings

By the time we had begun to take apart the metaphors that we use to keep ourselves up we thought we could fly. Perhaps this, in itself, was a testament to the metaphors – definitions of who we are were always strong enough to adapt to the changing world. But were we? Robbed of our metaphors we spiraled into a…

Run

Mood: Monday morning. Coffee station at the office. Outside the window behind you outside calls with yearning. An eagerness that reminds you of last night. Of running barefoot singing your love to the moon. Sigh. Everyday shit. And with his last breath he whispered, ‘run away, run as far and as fast as you can. Run, run and never look…

The Wander’s Dilemma

But suppose you were given the key to begin a desuggestion of evolution. A dream, a whisper, a love note – blown away in a dustball kicked up by a screeching matatu and caught in the wheels of a passing bodaboda. Would the cycle disrupt its message? Perhaps it would break some sort of spell. Unwinding the careful whisperings of…