Cycle of Cliches
And that was why, perhaps, in those moments, standing by the railway crossing, when I was shrinking every moment to nothingness, I had awakened to the most compelling insight:
Life is a myth and time is an infinite void.
Someone snapped their fingers in front of my eyes. Nisim it was. Beside him was Jogu Mama’s daughter, Jahnobi.
“Where are you lost, Puali?” he asked, smiling as usual.
I nodded my head to mean ‘nothing’.
“Then, why the hell are you standing in the rain? Waiting for someone?”
“No, actually…I was…I mean, I was going home. But…then…when the train was passing…I saw you. So…”