every day is somewhat new. the day unfolds before her eyes. she takes a curious look and then with a toss of her thick straw coloured plaits, decides, there was nothing new in the day or the way it had unfolded before her eyes...her mossy green eyes. then she is bored. and life moves on in diurnal motion.

there were green valleys and a flaming red sun, many many days ago. she was thirsty like a nomad in the kalahari. it was then that she had made up her mind to own a fountain once she grew up. and eventually when she did, she was the owner of a few springs. and sadly, there was no winter.

fulfilled and satisfied, she approached the oasis. a lush green and a sparkling crystal clean water; water everywhere but where it should have been. the eyes were dry. her lips quivered. the mirage raped a few sunshine moments. she thought about it. and then her reflection evaporated from her crystal clear mind like the mirage.

she never felt. she never thought. she never spoke. she just carelessly travelled through thoughts and words. that was what was and that was what was to be.


little girls can be that stupid.