a time to grieve; a time to dance

Have you ever found a glistening coin on the bed of a flowing stream? You point at it but your friend isn't quite able to see it. Or maybe your friend is pointing at something at a short distance and, for all your neck-craning, you can't quite see what it is.

This blog is exactly that. This is me pointing at something that I know is there and hope you'd see, too. Whether it's at a golden mask at the bottom of the well or an eagle soaring high in the sky, I wish you Happy Looking!

23 June 2011

I am not MacGyver

Of course, at six years old, I didn't know that. So I climbed to the top of our wardrobe, thrice as tall as I was, opened two umbrellas, and leapt off in a MacGyveresque stunt.

The very moment I jumped into the air I knew something was wrong. I wasn't parachuting slowly down to the ground. I was going down fast! Dangerously fast!

I landed on my ankles. It hurt like hell. I sincerely thought I was gonna die. I must've laid there prostate for a good twenty minutes because I couldn't move.

Then, like a soldier in battle, I crawled. My bed was just a few feet away but it took me forever to get there. When I did, I closed my eyes in relief.

I woke up the next day. I was conked out. My feet still worked. I thought it was a dream but the umbrellas were still on the floor. It was then that I decided that if I can't be MacGyver, I'll be Inspector Gadget.
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