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Ah, now that you've been suitably warned, here, drink some tea and shuffle on to the posts! (Happy sounds of tea-drinking and shuffling-on heard.)

Saturday, 20 February 2010

That's why.








Udnan had a problem with her metaphors.
They're mixed, he said.

Nandu knew it, of course. Almost every time a mixed metaphor popped out of her fingers, she'd stop, raise a curious eyebrow, maybe nod slightly in acknowledgement and then go back to creating negative space. Sometimes the metaphor would just creep out, skirt her consciousness and squat at font height in some sentence or the other. It was ok. She was ok with it.

The other day, as they waited at the dentist's, she tried to explain. They're looked down upon, I know, but I use them a lot, I've found. Sometimes ideas bleed into each other and then mixed metaphors are often but part of the natural flow of expression.

Udnan looked at her and then back at the wilting tooth-chart by his chair. The colours were faded and the labels peeling.

As long as integrity is not kicked in the shins...
He shrugged.

Nandu smiled in response. She knew he'd get it!
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or do something better with your time. *The world goes back to its knitting*