Sarted on a rant about Iranian cinema in general and Mama's Guests in particular, when I found it was getting very long so I've put it away for a bit (sorry, Shweta).
Instead, here's a poem (mine, I feel compelled to add).
Whimsy
What I love about ice creams is they mean summer.
What I hate about cold is its teeth.
What I love about hammers is the smell of handles.
What I hate about trains is that they arrive.
What I love about chairs is the dreams I have in them.
What I hate about sleeping is waking up.
What I love about floors is that they love feet.
What I hate about rainbows is their technicolour.
What I love about objects is their predictability.
What I hate about objects is there are too many of them.
What I love about rainbows is you sometimes see their double.
What I hate about floors is they sometimes give way.
What I love about sleeping is it’s a triumph of the will.
What I hate about chairs is their deception.
What I love about trains is their snakiness.
What I hate about hammers is the way they’ve stayed the same.
What I love about cold is my breath speaks for me.
What I hate about ice creams is their impermanence.
4 comments:
Nice, nice!! You are going to get me into poetry, one way or the other, it seems.
batul, definitely! :D
Say, do you know how one is to attend this FTTI thingie? Saw mention at Ludwig's and popped across.
I mean would it involve a couple of mug shots and passing of bills etc or can one just breeze in?
Also would you know where can one get the schedule? The Metro plus has experted the art of tantalize- underinform-frustrate.
BTW Long is good.:)
Shweta: see the unni post for my reply
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