Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Not to be plucked

He was trying to look as far as he could see in the bright light of solar emission at noon in the capital of flowers through an opened door of his semi-furnished room in the urban and holistic colony. The wind was angry with someone as it slammed the door again and again like women in Japan move their hand-fans to dry their face which gets wet due to droplets of sweat , tending to romance their cheeks in the slowest motion of dynamics.  But the motion of door could not disturb his sight. He was engrossed in observing the jealousy of red rose from the green leaves and prickly thorns. Blossoming only at the top of them and spreading the dictum of its royalty. Delicacy in making and shyness of  being supreme was visible and could be felt by human beings even with the worst olfactory response. The aromatic smell made Shakespeare say , "just another rose..." . But he probably concluded that softness was an instrumental character to be at the top.  

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