The Antiquity Of A Simple Homage

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Plunge, scrub and drizzle.
Plunge, scrub and drizzle.

She thought about how brazen The Grey made her feel. Maybe it was the color it washed over everything, making the simple chicken slaughter stall seem enigmatic and foreboding and the hushed strokes of the sweepers on the street almost poetic and melancholy.

Or perhaps it was the wash itself. A great torrent of despair and dissolved tears.

But it did bring relief. It blessed her with this puddle she now used to wash her needs.

Plunge, scrub and drizzle.
Plunge, scrub and drizzle.

She looked up at the sky and it struck her again, the dreadful beauty of it. All of it. The Grey made people dull and grey and lazy. It was wonderful. It was The Grey that made her believe that anything ever existed that was larger than the life they all craved to relentlessly better here.

She wished she could marvel about it, sing songs and serve its mighty splendour – somehow. Aayi wouldn’t have to threaten to chop her hair off then, if she didn’t work, because she would. She’d do it with joy and hopefully some grace.

But people here didn’t appreciate  soliloquy. Or anything for that matter. You needn’t speak unless it was to provide or profane.

She would wish herself out of here if she didn’t fear everywhere had become like here. The Carfolk and the pedestrians alike. They never stopped to soliloquise, they never marveled. They badgered and grunted and shuddered and scolded and complained.

And oftimes, they never stopped at all.

Plunge, scrub and drizzle.
Plunge, scrub and drizzle.

Aayi told her the Oldfolk would marvel. They were like people made of The Grey, in their grey-cast photographs and monochrome personalities. They marveled and lazed and contemplated.

She didn’t like that it was old and uninteresting and unconsidered to want to dedicate a part of an hour, a day and yourself to pay homage to the beautiful and magestic and something so so big as The Grey.

She wished the time would come again.


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