It has not been a very busy day, though I have been ill with the flu and a baby cough that’s just starting, nonetheless stubborn like a naggingly crying baby.
My phone’s down and I’m writing on a paper. Quite unusual! But it was all I could do to satisfy an even more stubborn baby writer in me.
It is a public holiday today, and most passing spectacles of my view have been fairly well-dressed. Pardon the use of the word “fairly”; seems rather shallow of me who is ignorant of how highly they must regard their grooming.
Most are not in the usual eveningtime hurry, and traffic is rather light. Commercial activities are as intense as on any other day.
Along comes this light-skinned, nicely apprearing lady across the street from my hospital building. What is attracting…
…Oh! They are four now.
…me to her is seated on a pavement on her side of the road. A young man, fashionably attired, is intensely tracking tracking this lady with his eyes. The head is also following suit, obvious enough to any passer-by. There are two comrades-in-scoping who are less fashionably dressed; but their combined passion for the game doesn’t seem to match our man’s. The lady, who was walking away from their direction, seems completely unaware. However, I am keeping in mind that when the lady was walking up in their direction, she had already spotted them and could guess what was soon to happen. Anyway, she non-chalantly walks away. Another lady who was initially on my side of the street, crossed over to their side. Also appearing unaware! Never mind -our scopers are so game. I wonder if they are just spectators, voyeurists or planners. This lady soon walks out of my field of vision, but I could judge her location by reading our scoper-major.
Now they are five in number. They are gathering for the ultimate nighttime ritual.
It’s dusk and there are glowing light bulbs here and there.
Paraders and Spectators abound in the stream of life.
Some swim under the eyes of many. Thank you paparazzo! Some at times stumble under the overwhelming attention. Some keep their calm heads on cool shoulders. Some live all out, bathing in the attention -babies of the spotlight growing into Mediagods and Mediagoddesses.
Others are happy with just being spectators. Some want to remind themselves of what they wish to be, and keep hope alive. Some are -pardon me, please -golden-eyed vampires living off the spotlightlife. They feed off the scandals, the glories, the dramas of the spotlight. Some make their business off the spotlight.
From the little nagging baby that cries for attention and the watchful, caring parents who monitor every move…to the children that want to be the cool ones and the silent watchers and wishers…to the teenagers in puberty, engaging in courting and scoping rituals…to the “made-men and women” and the society’s “crawlers” and humble-lifers…to the elderly who want to be noted for life’s achievements and the quiet and abandoned ones…
It’s all there…
In the stream of life.
—All from my window.
You are welcome only if you have a shadow.
Writing is being.
Being mad is serious business.
Being deep is mad business.
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