Soliloquy ♠ Before Dusk

Road In The Woods. Egerton House Road cutting ...

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Reading in the stationary car ▬ my eyes are here but I think I am partly distracted. It could be because I am sleepy and I think with the day my energy is setting. Daylight seemingly has become whiter or is it golden warped with the blues, blacks and whites of the day that will soon go to bed?

I am waiting for Mom who is doing her important stuff. I just write ‘stuff’ but that sounds too casual and seemingly boring but in actuality it’s my mood. It’s setting down a bit because my back has started to hurt. But I am also interested in the book I am reading. But I know I am tired. My attention span is too excited and wants to rush through things ▬ but at the same time I am also thinking that the details are very interesting.

Then I realized internally why I think Stephenie Meyer has potential but does not always deliver ▬ her books lack this depth that it somewhat at times begins with. It becomes interesting at times and you may be curious to know more but then you get irritated with the characters as they have odd 360° shifty behaviours. But with the characters I was reading there was depth and different angles. There was more context through which they were fleshed. The opening was quite capturing as well.

The book is A Widow For One Year by John Irving.

I personally think Irving is a very good author and one of those writers we can understand being a best-seller but also with a lot of intellectual appeal and literary content.  There is also a lot of effort and pragmatism in his characters though they are flawed ▬ you don’t have to ‘love’ them as they are not ‘perfect’ or maybe even likeable ▬ our writer does critique his own characters and realizes their flaws and passions. The narrative is in the third person so obviously the writer is intimately able to interact with these characters without the one-on-one involvement. It also allows the writer to be adequately an entertainer with those little thoughts that come up during the development of the character. I think as I partly read another of Irving’s books ▬ the book that sent him soaring to international success ▬ I know that he establishes his characters quite well and proceeds with them accordingly ▬ as I saw in the book that made him well-known, The World According To Garp.

This book follows the same pattern as in stylistically he starts off into something that is important to the characters but at the same time does not reveal everything. You can actually ponder a lot on his characters but not in the way you may contemplate characters written by Meyer ▬ as in having so much potential going to waste or what can be most readily improved ▬ I was actually picturing the scenarios that the writer had wrote and read some parts again to imagine them once more. The book is not fast-paced but that is the beauty of it. Its actions are not limited but rather straight-out there ▬ building into something.

Whilst reading I was interrupted by my interruptive mind ▬ the pavement next to me was only being tread upon after long intervals; and beside it was a wall with the opposite side being a large field where people can play their preferred outdoor sports. The long semi-narrow road was not situated near a mainroad meaning less noise and more passing flings of sounds that do not baffle or disturb you. They might actually arouse your interests. And they did for me.

The air was filled with a different language. Not my mother-tongue of Bangla or English. The pavement, a bit sordid but like more of a haphazard trail in the woods but messy, with its grassy sides on the corner, was being walked on by mostly foreigners. I wondered if they were here to visit the shopping complexes nearby or the amusement part on the opposite side right before the field started. I looked at them and realized to them this was an adventure. The things that bothers us usually would not bother them. Even the conditions of the pavement was a fun-filled excursion. I realized I envied their freshness of travel though I, myself, was amazed by the nativity of my own space. It is my soil but in a place I seldom travel.

Maybe, I shared the adventure with them.

As I read I was again distracted by an insect ▬ no, the long tendrils that looked limb-like was not that of an insect ▬ though I was partly awakened, more energized, by that long tendril. The ‘insect’ was light. Light has this beautiful capacity to act like animate creatures. I do not know if the light was caused by a passing vehicle or the movement of the trees but by Allah Almighty it was truly beautiful. It whipped around like hair or like flickering fingers. I was amazed by it truly and now I wonder how Allah Almighty created such fine dynamics.

The dimming of light and the lowering of my reading day-lamp made me look out at the pavement on my left again. Now I noticed that the long metal fence which was shaped more like binary lines with spaces in between had an overgrowth of vine growing on it. It came out like a wave. I took a picture of it ▬ it looked enigmatic under the approach of dusk and I had to adjust my cellphone’s camera to take a picture of it. However, the picture came out dark and I was too lazy to lower my glass and take a proper picture.

Under the dimming light (without flash and with) I took some pictures of my book’s page.

I had called Mom before and she was not quite done yet.

Finally dusk really came and I had switch on the overhead light to keep reading my book.

After a while Mom called.

It was time to leave this street.  Thanks to Allah Almighty it was a nice place to have those echoes of contemplation

▬ even if one is shutting down like dusk…

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