a ode
it was the summer, hot and the fan was running with that rythm. one could hear that sound every 5 seconds just about saving you from the hot sun shining brightly. the air was warm and the room was brightly lit with the windows and door open. in the background he could hear his mom speaking to his domestic help. the vessels, the water dripping from the tap ... and the music from the computer blaring "when i look into your eyes, i can see the love restrained ..."
but he was vaguely unaware. present but totally absent. sitting on the chair, which was not the most comfortable one around he was oblivious to everything else. he was in a different world reconstructing characters, putting faces and visualizing situations. he eyes were devouring the words in front of him. wodehouse transported him into a different world, a world which delighted him. made him singularly happy about life, the characters were always the good natured person he rarely came across in life. the words, the similes, the metaphors, the ironies conjured up tales of unending beauty. and there would be intricate situations woven together with a myraid number of characters whose conflicting characters contributed to the single most endearing characteristic of his books - humour. he laughed, he laughed aloud, he laughed without any mirth, he laughed for laughters sake. it was the most beautiful way of laughing. he treasured it. nothing that happened, or anyone in his life would or could steal it away.
his mom walked past him, wondering what in hell had possessed her child. there he was on a chair unmindful of her calling out to him, with a book in hand and laughing out to himself. she smiled, she knew, she left him alone. he didnt notice that, but he didnt care about it.
there was a beautiful flow in the story, the innocent and a straightforward grace, the mannerisms, the language, and the typical greetings used by the characters. he reveled in it, he was transported into a different land. a land of mind numbling simplicity and dreams. a thing of beauty is a joy forever....
but he was vaguely unaware. present but totally absent. sitting on the chair, which was not the most comfortable one around he was oblivious to everything else. he was in a different world reconstructing characters, putting faces and visualizing situations. he eyes were devouring the words in front of him. wodehouse transported him into a different world, a world which delighted him. made him singularly happy about life, the characters were always the good natured person he rarely came across in life. the words, the similes, the metaphors, the ironies conjured up tales of unending beauty. and there would be intricate situations woven together with a myraid number of characters whose conflicting characters contributed to the single most endearing characteristic of his books - humour. he laughed, he laughed aloud, he laughed without any mirth, he laughed for laughters sake. it was the most beautiful way of laughing. he treasured it. nothing that happened, or anyone in his life would or could steal it away.
his mom walked past him, wondering what in hell had possessed her child. there he was on a chair unmindful of her calling out to him, with a book in hand and laughing out to himself. she smiled, she knew, she left him alone. he didnt notice that, but he didnt care about it.
there was a beautiful flow in the story, the innocent and a straightforward grace, the mannerisms, the language, and the typical greetings used by the characters. he reveled in it, he was transported into a different land. a land of mind numbling simplicity and dreams. a thing of beauty is a joy forever....
posted by void_spaces at
1:05 AM
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