Ants

Ant in my room. Thousands .Looks like they found a few crumbs of god know what.
Pretty interesting actually.

You have the PM (Project Manager ants formerly know as leader ants).Easy to spot ..fat and ugly… picks a nice spot not too far from the crumbs and passes comments about how the other ants are not working effectively and how they die too fast out of exhaustion.

And the ML(Module leader ants formerly known as soldier ants)See the ants with the huge heads? The ones that eat the other ants? They don’t carry anything though….they eat on the way.

Ahhh the worker ants….small things…carrying huge thing. And they walk in a straight line too…wonder if their allowed to talk on the way…or is it like a hard-core slave thing?
Thers one worker ant away from the rest…looks like he’s eating his crumb and enjoying the view.


Anyways I got to clean them up toss them into the garden or bathroom. Except for that one worker ant ….he reminds me of someone.

Alex

I left home years back ..out into a big world.
And left a friend there.
Who I thought of often
But then days turned to years ,and a boy changed into an adult…and I then thought of him rarely.
When I went back he wasn’t there.
And I wonder if I let him down.
A relationship that would seem frivolous to any other.
He was my dog and I loved him.
Now that he’s gone I hope he doesn’t make the same mistake I did.cause it hurts.

Because

I'm eight years old, and the world is a beautiful place. Its dusk. I'm on a hill overlooking the town in which I was born. Kalimpong. The horizon is surrounded by mountains, proudly showing off their new coats of snow. I'm glad; for in a few months the snows would melt and the rivers would be pure and new swimming holes would be awaiting conquer. From where I stood, the world was small. The quiet, unlike that of a closed room, begged an opinion. Imposing structures now barely visible were an eternity away…and so were the troubles that haunt the mind of a child. The silence and simplistic beauty of it all does not move me, for I am a part of it.

Like most eight year olds, I asked myself questions, questions of life and its meaning, of how's and whys, where and when. Or perhaps I asked them because the horizon willed me to, promising me an answer. The answers never came, but a sense of understanding and acceptance did.

It has been over a decade since I've been to the hills that overlooked my town. I fear it, for now the answers might not come. Not because it has changed…but because I might have.

-to those who understood the silence

?

im lost