Blank Space
Pots clang. A crash. Perhaps a few plates from the crockery set just met their death. The aroma of burnt milk wafts and mingles with the fragrance of incense. Sandal? Mogra? Restless ululating of women. A sea of white fills the courtyard.
No words. Some sniffles. A void where there should have been music. Just a blank space, never to be filled. No waiting. Only absence.
Thud. The hands that held the crockery set moments ago now lay beside the porcelain shards. Silence. Frenzied feet scurry on the linoleum.
Impatient screech of siren. Blue flashes.
An announcement. Collective gasps from the sea of white.
A funeral and a birth. Auspicious? Ominous?
Pots clang. A crash. Perhaps a few plates from the crockery set just met their death. The aroma of burnt milk wafts and mingles with the fragrance of incense. Sandal? Mogra? Restless gurgles of toddlers. A sea of pink fills the courtyard. Cakes dissected. Confetti rain.
Noise. Tinkling laughter. The void no longer blank.
Beautiful. Leaves one with so many thoughts..
ReplyDeleteI agree with Sam. Leaves me wondering about the setting, or it was just too much of blank space in your mind making up all the noise.
ReplyDeletethis was some intense imagery! i love posts which leaves the reader pondering! :)
ReplyDelete