Allegropolis is not Calcutta, please.
It just translates to "the city of joy".
I step out on the platform.
The train is delightfully late.
But from when did time ever matter.
There are no clocks here.
Those relics of wooden cuckoo clocks do survive.
So does the clock tower.
The dials do remain.
The needles which ran around, skipping from number to number,
Pointlessly,
Merely to reach back where they started.
They are no longer there.
Pointlessness can be joy,
But not when you are pointlessly in a hurry.
Contradiction One.
The Clock tower chimes.
It chimes for joy.
It chimes whenever it feels like it.
There are no birds any longer
To chime for joy any more.
The metallic song of the clock tower will have to do.
Have to do?!
So can there be happiness in compromise?
Has to do.
Contradiction Two.
No comments:
Post a Comment