Why are you being weird, woman? I am walking through your aisles, my eyes darting to different places to glance at what is there.
So why are you there in the same aisle admiring your own books too? I walk to the next aisle and there you are browsing through some books.
So I walk to different corners of the bookstore and look at the woman with interest. If I were stealing, I have no bags on me, my shirt and my pants are snug. So, I do not understand why you are ‘keeping and eye on me’ which I presume you are doing.
Perhaps it is the way I walk. Nonchalantly walking through the aisles, instead of standing still and browsing through one book at a time. I was literally talking walks through the aisles. I don’t act like a browser, a stingy book buyer, one who stands and reads and then leaves empty handed.
Woman, if only you knew, how much I have spent on books, just not your bookstore. I walk nonchalantly through your aisles because I have so many books that one of my rooms is my library. I walk quickly because I look for something that catches my eye, whatever its categories. Your books aren’t.
Three songs, I would not say important but of significance. Because I do not forget them and I heard them in my formative idealistic years. I am not sure if they are my favorite favorites since I like so many songs. But these songs, I really feel them, Powerfully simply passionate.
Ti Amo – Laura Branigan
I did not know this song. I only heard it in passing. But it stuck in my head. But I never went looking for it. But it still stuck in my head. I only know this verse :
God how I love you so,
my heart just won’t let go,
ti amo ti amo ti amo …..’
Wow, I felt it powerfully, in her voice.
These two other songs I knew about came from Dirty Dancing.
Will you still love me tomorrow- The Shirelles
A version by Amy Winehouse, I was very sad about her. She has such a unique voice.
The Ronettes – Be My Baby
And this one, Words by FR David . Usually, I hear and know only the chorus. And it explains how I usually feel and I feel so much and so strongly,
‘Words, don’t come easy, to me…..’
I absolutely hate the heat. Maybe I do not hate the dry heat. But I hate the muggy kind of city heat, the kind that does not allow me to sweat, yet envelopes and follows me no matter where I walk to. In that humid heat I feel my shirt on my back, sticking to me. I move feeling my skin pushing into the still thick air as if I were parting the Red Sea.
But it isn’t even that hot yet. It is only the early hint of the summer to come. How I dread the summer. To be walking in the concrete jungle surrounded by tall buildings which traps the air, the exhaust of those frequent and plentiful buses pulling off from their stops. The feel of that exhaust air particles weighted by the heavy water vapour on my exposed skin, on my face. I had often times feel like I would like to remove my skin as I remove my shirt off my back.
Perhaps I might like to get away? Not necessarily so. I am comfortable enough were I to not move,to just sit very quietly on my sofa that is draped with cool smooth sheets and to enter the world of Writing101 and Photoshop. In there I forget about my physical surroundings, reminded only when I shift positions as my skins cuts across the air again, even if only a little.
Enough, I get out of my apartment, take the lift into the cool lobby. I ask the receptionists about my appointment with the technicians. My air conditioners are not yet ready for the climate change. The coolant is gone in one, and the other does not respond to the remote control.
Double and rotated from upright.
All Done ? HAR HAR HAR !
Dare you steal my pearl ?