Two wise men

I like the traffic. The shrill honks reducing behind the curtained cabins. I like the crowd. Cluster of people walking on a footpath to get to their destination. The tap-tap of their feet. The hurling cars at the signal. The flurry at a zebra crossing. I like the unexpected ringing of phones. I like quick decisions, not hurried, but quick. I like the interrupting spasms.

No, don't get me wrong. I do like the ephemeral silence. The fleeting sense of serenity. But I'd be feigning if I said I liked to listen to the gush of waves, the whoosh of winds. Or if I would want to keep sitting at a beach, staring at an endless sea merging somewhere with the sky. No, that's not I.

I do not belong to a countryside. I'm a city man. I like the noise. The frenzy. Being on toes. But today, this day, I want to curl myself under a blanket. I do not want a knock or an interruption. Today, this day, keep me away from these rascals. These oppressive creative clowns.


**

Some people like mess. They can't work if they aren't constantly struck with what's called a problem. They look for it: here and there. And when they can't find any, they create them, mother them, until the nebulous monster stares in their face. These people like being on the edge. At the brink and brooming. They like crisis: to solve them and emerege a hero, chest out.

These people will stay afloat in the quicksand. Push them to their porticos to see an early sun, or let loose on a hill to breathe some air, I'm afraid they'll choke their lungs.