Peering at the world beyond the prism of the looking-glass, we find the open skies, the key-codes to unlock the grid that binds us hand and foot. Beyond a point in the grid is the nakedness of space, complete freedom and a gaping hole you can choose to crawl, run or walk through.
No longer cautious,
rekindled camaraderie,
turns into precious blooms
while adult friendships
abandon Solitude ~
it sneaks a hasty retreat.
This evening is a poem,
a tree-lined, green, colourful
Poem I carry home
in my back pocket.
Murakami’s construct leaves all of his stories open to a myriad interpretations, and that’s the beauty of his narrative.
He manages to etch distinct characters in each of his tales with remarkable dexterity and the Murakami mind observes quietly, much like the Lamprey, who live off life itself. I was agog by the sheer brilliance of an imagination that defies coherence yet draws you in, makes you believe.
Majumdar writes with great sensitivity- delving deep into the young lad’s mind, drawing from both the light and the dark that exist in tandem within. Ori senses the resentment his mother’s stage life provokes in others around him, the family and neighbours.
This is a poem!!
Beautiful