Meeting

I've never seen the inside of an airplane, but thanks to my alter ego - Afrocentric - I've met someone who has been to Spain, lives in London and is a really great writer.

I've met a bleeding heart activist - who play acts at being an accountant - while he spent months traipsing around the Middle East and has even...wait for it...lived in London :P

I've met my doppelganger - she took the time out to find Lazeeza's - and was blessed with the discovery that pictures are not worth a thouand words since the real thing is always better.

I was interviewed in a radio show where I was called an 'inspiration'?? I know...go figure!!

And these are only the people I've met in the 'Flesh'. I haven't even touched on all those with whom I've touched souls even though thousands of miles lie between us.

For this great opportunity, THANK YOU Computer geeks for the internet. and THANK YOU Blogger for connecting lives.

Chasm

It’s a looooong way down. She shudders. And suddenly ‘between a rock and a hard place’ crystallizes before her eyes and gives her the finger. ‘Life flashing before ones eyes...’

Fucking clichés! she rages. But that was her life, no? A big bloody cliché. First love never dies and all that crap. What had it got her?

Stretch marks, for one. And heartache…lots of it. Clearly, somewhere along the line, during the Great Translation Process, Youth - its true meaning- had been misplaced. Lost in translation!? The most succinct translation,though, would have to be, was, stupidity, at least in her case it was. Yet there Youth stood, mocking at her, a glorified notion. Tragic, she thought, that decions taken when all the brain cells had yet to cohere translated all of eternity.

And so it was that an otherwise intelligent young woman allowed a great body, superb kissing skills, and hands that roved ravenously– having the unfortunate effect of making her feel desirable (and we all know how that turns out in the end)- to guide her decisions as regards a life partner. And now this. A betrayal so deep, that it dug a chasm in her chest where love had once been leaving her more than just a little confused. And so she stands…here…now…looking at an emptiness and desolation that pales into insignificance alongside her own sorrow. She wonders what the veld and rocks at the base of the cliff looks like close up.

Does she want to see it? Would she have the courage to? Does anyone?