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I have never understood that sort of behaviour; and that day, as I stood there at the table next to that concrete platform, I was nowhere close to attaining nirvana on that subject either. People are complex masses of flesh and feelings. That flesh survives its battle with feelings is a miracle and consequently, that people themselves survive and thrive is a form of pure unadulterated amusement to me. Naturally then, their behaviour - mine including - is even more complicated to understand what with the millions of things they need to do to recover from the skirmishes they have to wade through. Pull a string here and cut a string there and the whole weave will come apart. It’ll all come undone. It’ll all unravel to display a rather frightened scared naked being that used that weave to keep the storms at bay.
So, I finished my last morsel, put on my weave, and dived into the sea of oblivion outside the food joint. I knew it could do with some patches of bright coloured velvet, and I knew I would spend some time darning those into my attire - a thread at a time, with a book in hand, and a bowl of soulful music to slurp on. It would take time but well, so be it. These things take time.
Everyone takes their own sweet time with such sewing. And no one - not even the couple in love - will want to finish it on time.
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