I used to blask music in the shower. One day as I did so, I felt a tooth shaked when a jet of water from the shower knocked into my rum. Shit. I was eating so much sweets. Few days later, I went straight into the go-in clinic that stood kitty-corner across the square. It was run by a bulgarian doc, who was said to have French extraction. Knowing dental extractions are inevitable, I drank quite a few bottles of maple extract for consolation and braced myself for it.
Lodged in everything, time was once captured in the hourglass. But it still goes ever. What has made a reticent colorless old man? A shrapnel wound? No. In spite of susceptible memory, the man flashed back to the war. In Nigeria, an escalader was raised onto the ramparts to break the last bulwark of barbarism. He climbed up, a briar tabacoo squeezed between teeth, but as he climbed higher, cold swept through his body from his stomach. The pill he sallowed last night was a forgery. Prickly pain. Diarrhea. He felt a pool of stinking liquid jetted and flowed down the escalader.
On a stretch of road over a slope of terraced rice fields, we are caught by the old woman. Our car came to a halt as she threw herself in front of the hood. She went straight to the window and began her abusive tirading. Then we knew we must wait out her raving and ranting before the woman winded down. Then someone told us that she had delusions of persecution. I rolled down the window and stretched out for a handshake. The woman, to my amazement, stretched out one of hers, too. I could felt her calloused fingers. A indomitable woman, I thought. Her blunt words now felt so visceral that I came to the realization that she should have not been deemed as flat-out insane. She rooted for her cause. In a trance she seemed to me a subject of much prurient curiosity. I hadn’t been so much of tough cookie like her. I hit the bottle and bottled up my sadness and anger. I bottled out in fron the judge under the serective threat. My warm home and hearth, utentils that serve great food prepared by my wife, and mauve clouds in the west at dusk are all gone. Oh shit. Then I came back to the sobering reality. I said nothing and rolled up the windon. On the jagged road I dropped off.