We are the children of the same land.
We bear the same scars, got from the same weapons.
We both have died
We have reached a charred precipice.
You and I.
So, join me.
And we shall rise, back from the dead.
For you are my father,
and also my son.
Also my lover.
You are me.
And I, you.
We are conjoined through pain.
Streams of the dark blood flowing from your wounds meld with my very own.
It is so full of life itself.
Dead no more.
This is my prayer to you, my friend.
Our pain will be the rebirth of us.
So, join me.
‘Bang!’ The door is slammed as Sally marches out of the house. She sees a pretty kite that the kids were playing with the other day lying on the ground. She stands there for a while, staring at the lonesome kite. Then stands on it, putting one foot at a time. And wipes her naked feet on the kite like she would had that been a doormat. The paper gives away with a sharp noise, and she puts on her over-sized shoes she bought two days ago. The same shoes that hurt her protruding little bone, but she didn’t realize that while buying those shoes. The shoes she didn’t need anyway. And then she walks, and walks, and walks. Till she finds her spot under her favourite tree. Sits. And mopes. Mopes for a while as time passes by. Nothing really happens. She waits there sitting under a tree, with disheveled hair and oversized shoes, waiting for something to happen.