Category: Weekly state (Page 29 of 33)

Oh my, look at that beautiful boulder roll. I am sure it will end up in a more spherical state this time. How round it has become since I started pushing it.

For whatever reason, I believe that the beauty of the boulder is the final product of my doing. Seeing that I will not reach the end of this incline, I will now focus on the beauty of the task.

The boulder will be shaped again and again. I will take my breaks and you know what, I will even decide when the time has come to start all over and watch that boulder roll down yet again.

My muscles strengthen with every push, my physique will get used to the boulder and in the end, we will stand there, shining. Until I let that boulder roll, one last time. Watching it reflect the sun in its now perfectly spherical shape, creating a surrounding halo effect for everyone who yet to achieve this. It will be marvellous.

Why do we know what we know? We know because someone told us so.

Merlin was sitting in a bathtub filled with lukewarm macaroni when it knocked on the door. It was a leprechaun, a fairly hot one. Not in any temperature way, but good-looking. It may be up to the spectators view but this leprechaun was particularly stunning. Well formed earlobes and a navel to die for.

“It’s me, the stunning leprechaun.”, said the stunning leprechaun, “I have brought spices from the furthers corners of the cracks between the pillows of the couch. Behold!”

The stunning leprechaun tilted its hair back, combed its wavering mane to the left to expose the beautiful left ear. It is known to possess the greatest power of beauty. Amazed by the earlobe and the perfect formula that the left ear represents, Merlin averted his gaze and sunk deeper into the macaroni.

The leprechaun jumped from the door to the siphon, to the floor, onto the toilet and finally sat down on the rim of the bathtub, exposing its now pumped up calves. By sticking the tiny, muscled legs into the macaroni, the whole mass began to heat up.

Merlin, surprised by the heat this generated, pushed themselves up.

“Who have you brought this time, stunning leprechaun?”, asked Merlin.

“The Devil’s Rucola!”, exclaimed the leprechaun, pointing towards the door in a waving motion.

What entered was a Roquefort cheese, shaped like a prism.

“It is me, a prism-shaped Roquefort! I have come to fulfil my destiny. My destiny is going to hell. I will now claim what is mine and melt into the macaroni.”

Merlin didn’t know what was happening and before he knew, the Devil’s Rucola had melted into the mass of macaroni.

“Well, that was weird.”, said Merlin and took a bite of his Extra long Chili cheese sandwich.

For a long time she stared into the pan of frying goodness. It has been some time since she decided to relive the golden memories of fried rice.

It was the summer of no worries, warm, breezy and full of experiences. Free-floating, unoccupied and Bohème. Who knew that only a couple of years later many things would be different.

The onions now went from their white state to a the golden and crispy deliciousness she got to know in that summer. “Why is it always the summers that I remembered so distinctly, so positively?”, she asked herself while stirring around in the oil.

She could still feel the wind in her hair, the sun kissing her cheeks. It was a sight to behold and a scene to be cherished forever. What is left now despite this recipe for sizzling onions leading to a golden mountain of rice?

While spraying the mountain with a dash of hot Chili Sauce, she decides to step out and live for another summer.

“But first, let me sizzle in the sun for a bit. With my sunglasses on, rice on my belly and sweet music playing in the back. Let’s sizzle.”

I love my island.

Set in a big ocean with little to no waves, surrounded by fish and octopuses, it sits peacefully. From the banks of my wheat fields I can see far. Other islands, cliffs, distant lands. I am content on my island, I find myself making peace.

I have found that I am the maker of my destiny, of my surroundings. Whatever I touch, falls apart of is erected. I have built the tower on my island with my hands. I am keeping my cows and my sheep. I feed the fish so that the fish feed me.

My tiny harbour welcomes my friend, for whenever we are far we have the chance to be close. We look out on the sea together, the island flickering in the light of the campfires and torches. When you think about it, it is not hard to forget about life beyond that island.

I create away. Just for a moment, I will be here.

I am a hermit. I have become reclusive.

What do the birds think when I stare at them from my point of view, bound to earth by my featherless, fleshy arms? “Behold – A Man!”, I imagine the birds having a Diogenesian running joke about us. Then I remember that birds probably have no understanding of ancient greek philosophy. In the end, I let them fly.

Strolling down the alley, faced with the dilemma of once again choosing which way to go at the crossroads, I cannot help myself but keep trotting down. I could slow down, I could command my feet to even stop moving. In the end, I let them walk.

The cold wind blows into my face. I cringe and put my shoulders up to protect my neck. My eyes start to water a bit, the nose starts to run. I could get out a tissue and wipe it away. In the end, I let it run.

I am sitting on this bench and watch the people passing by, I watch the dogs pee onto the lanterns. Conversations enter my ear, trigger a reaction in my brain, only to disappear again with the humans who expressed the words. My leg falls asleep, I switch position. I am gazing. I could focus on something specific, but I let my eyes rest. I could focus but I let the world be blurry.