It’s an interesting life – filled with stories – that I made my head. But there it seems like it was ages ago and there was an age for it. Today I wake up to an instant cup of coffee, 2 biscuits and have moved from the running between stories to a made rush of storeys.
There was a time I woke up, opened the blinds and the sun would greet me with a big smile. Yes the Australian sun can be quite fascinating. Specially for those of us who belong to the northern hemisphere. Christmas is celebrated in shorts by the river sipping cold beers and june is when the winter winds hit your hard. These were days when sitting in front of the computer, I needed to churn stories everyday. It felt as if there were a 100 stories happening around me. I would peep out the window and find a little boy walking to school. His mom would have her hand on his little shoulder. I was far away to know what they were talking about. All I could here was 40 cars rushing on the street outside. I would sit and imagine what they were thinking. It could be how the boy wanted to go gaming this evening and his mom was tryign to tell him how they needed to plan for the barbeque. At the market, oh how I love listening to conversations in the lanes. I would start with the veggies. Mostly there were young mothers shopping for fresh greens. They would be busy, carefully looking for cheap but good quality veggies. Then I would move to the sauces. UH! you always a couple or two trying to decide which one it was going to be Tangy tomato.. or creamy mushroom. And the all I could concentrate on were the two preceding words. The devil in my head I tell you… Moving to next lane on left was cereals and baby food. New mothers, single men and me. We would stare at the 50 varieties there… knowing that we would settle in for the same old Kellogs in the end. But well!, it was entertaining to stand there and behave extremely picky about the (boring) breakfast you have. I could not resist and find another story there. The man next to me picked up a huge box of original corn flakes. umhph I thought…He does not care about the what starts his day… does he even remember what he had for dinner – did he even have it last night?. Well! Well! Well! – Just when I thought I had lost a story, he picked up a small box of muselli. Alright! – these are some of the words that rang into my head. French? women – hmm no woman…? Ah haa… I was tempted to follow him around and see what else he picked up. But the list was pretty pressing and the the idea of carrying 3 liters of milk and another 2 kgs back home in the crazy sun did not sound too encouraging.