Everything abridged

Night driving. Darkness shrouded everything, except the small piece of everything caught in the headlight. There was still some distance left to go, still so much ground to cover. How could there be so much everything? It all seemed overproportioned, somehow, as if the measurements were off by a magnitude or two

Then, the bridge. A narrow corridor of something in the midst of a whole lot of nothing, stars abound and around. Except, there, someone had painted something, on the bridge, in defiance of traffic and safety, possibly also of reason:

Beware, lest ye be spoiled by philosophers


All abuzz

The phone buzzed. She ignored it so completely that the question of trees falling in forests came and went like an open-and-shut case. The phone buzzed again, and again, and again, with the same utter lack of response. To those not in the know, the safe assumption would’ve been that it was someone else’s phone that just happened to be there for some reason

Then, it buzzed slightly differently, and she picked it up with a quickness so profound as to deny recourse to popular idiom. Truly, learning Morse code had been a big boost to her socially mediated life

What it came down to

He sat down. It was done. Finished. Complete. All the i’s had been dotted and all the t’s crossed. All the major obstacles had been surmounted. And the intermediate, intermediary challenges that cropped up along the way, as unexpected as they were inevitable. All dealt with. All of it. It was done

He tried to feel the moment, here and now, but nothing came to him. No joy, no triumph, no rush of having overcome. Nothing. He was just deeply, profoundly and utterly tired, and had no real idea of what to do next, except sit

Perhaps, he thought, tired counts as an emotion too

Vanishing mediator

She was whelmed. Just regular plain old whelmed, nothing fancy or special about it. The list of things to do seemed to contain ever more things, all of them reasonable and doable. The whelming quality didn’t belong to any one thing, but rather emerged as a function of sheer quantity. Just looking at the list made her realize that thinking about it any further would just lead to becoming unduly tired before getting anything done, and that simply would not do

The only way forward is through, she sighed, and began from the top

The accidental librarian

She looked everywhere for it. It was not in the bookshelves, where books usually hide out. Nor was it in any of the intermediary places where books end up whilst being read. It didn’t even turn up in any of the tertiary places where books probably should not be, but where they nevertheless turn up before being returned to their rightful shelves

At length, she concluded that she had lent it to someone and then never gotten it back. Not just this book, but some two-dozen odd other books as well

Perhaps, she mused, the world was all one great secret library, thinly disguised

Christmas interlude

There was a lull in the Christmas preparations. A thousand things still had to be done, but none of them seemed to be having to be done right this instant, so they weren’t. Someone – unclear who – threw a stream of cat videos onto the living room television screen, a seemingly haphazard collection of cats doing silly things, accentuated by seemingly random Korean music

It hit the spot. The music probably had some pop-cultural significance, but right there and then, all that mattered were silly cats doing silly things. The spirit of Christmas descended, one mediated fluffy furball at a time


She had a firm belief that you could tell a lot about a person based on the contents of their bookshelves. They served as a miniature table of contents, as it were. This bookcase, however, revealed nothing. It contained the most generic, least eye-catching books imaginable. The only thing standing out was the high prevalence of crime novels, but that in itself said nothing

Perhaps, she mused, there were some intriguing clue in the fact that some crime authors were present and not others, some hidden divide plain to those in the know. She, alas, could glean no such insight