Last night I dreamt that I had morphed into a fish. I swam around a rectangular tank, my sleek propeller body cutting through the water. Point A to B and Point C to D and Point A to B. What is life, if not this endless repetition of hours, days and years? I asked myself rhetorical questions to which there was no answer, and spent my time pondering over the nature of God and the wisdom of his or her existence. I deigned to accept my fate, I rebelled against the laws of nature, I tossed about frantically between these two extremes. I worshipped Darwin, I claimed the Hand of God. And while I was doing all of this, a big hand entered the water and pulled me up, gasping, rasping. I woke up on the kitchen tale, just before the knife sliced me in two.
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6 comments:
What a happy Christmas day thought! :D
But you fail to see the total peace of a fish's life. No thought, no worries. No 'my fish-girlfriend is going out with that male-shiny-orange fish'. How many fish do you know who've committed suicide?
sf, thankfully, i am not a copywriter, and therefore under no complusion to write merry christmas copy :)) (This blog therefore continues to be morbid, depending on my moods...)
aran, i see your point, i totally do!
aran, you never know... the complexities of life as a fish, driven more by instincts than intelligence... at least here u are provided with some norms to go about it... there its a free for all.... btw there are hundred of fishes who commit suicide every year and we know of must be billions more....
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