Nomadic life is not what Audrey chose but rather what chose her. Being a wild life photographer along with its share of perks brings its days of utter gloom and the emotional void that only singles expect.
To the rest of the world she was sans any lover by her side. Adjusting her lens into the dense African jungles she felt wild passion within her just like those beasts roaming around.
She was not part of any man’s life but that did not mean no one was part of hers! Confusing isn’t it? That was Audrey!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Chutzpah
One of those scorching April afternoons.
The ceiling was high yet you could hear the creak of the fan.
He wanted a smoke. Too many people he thought. They made him nervous, especially women.
The typewriter could be heard in the background, and voices, he could not understand them but knew what they implied.
The box felt small and as he rested his hands they felt sticky.
“Why did you do it”, he laughed in his head at the obvious answer.
“My temptation stemmed from her revealing outfit, not my fault” he quivered
Now if he could get that smoke.
The ceiling was high yet you could hear the creak of the fan.
He wanted a smoke. Too many people he thought. They made him nervous, especially women.
The typewriter could be heard in the background, and voices, he could not understand them but knew what they implied.
The box felt small and as he rested his hands they felt sticky.
“Why did you do it”, he laughed in his head at the obvious answer.
“My temptation stemmed from her revealing outfit, not my fault” he quivered
Now if he could get that smoke.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
What A Wait
More than 24 hours and still there was no reply.
It was a ritual to write, rather email. How uncomplicated life was she thought back in the 19th century, when there wasn’t the internet. Anticipation flickered for at least months till the postman was a party. But now it was all about instant gratification.
It’s the eighth cup of caffeine but still a mess, clicking hourly on the button, while the files pile on the table. Suddenly it says new mail, she clicks to find “Auto response: Back to office on Wednesday”. Back to waiting and sipping the ninth cup.
It was a ritual to write, rather email. How uncomplicated life was she thought back in the 19th century, when there wasn’t the internet. Anticipation flickered for at least months till the postman was a party. But now it was all about instant gratification.
It’s the eighth cup of caffeine but still a mess, clicking hourly on the button, while the files pile on the table. Suddenly it says new mail, she clicks to find “Auto response: Back to office on Wednesday”. Back to waiting and sipping the ninth cup.
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