Friday, July 10, 2009


A big tree, a few buildings, clustered around a dusty pitch. He walks, soaking in the salty breeze, under the hot Colombo sun. Deserted, utterly deserted, is the scene in front of him. He walks in, through the doorway of the furthest building. Takes some time to look at the plaques and the pictures, note the familiar salty grime on the tables. Take the stairs, their look out post, the warning centre. Things haven’t changed one bit, even the garbage can is exactly where it used to be, all those years ago. Garbage can! He remembers that failed recycling drive… Does anyone talk about recycling anymore? Do they really talk about the environment like they used to? Or are we all just worried about something that they say is going to come, and abusing that fear for their own gain? His moment of thought brings him up another flight of stairs, he now looks at a deserted hall, rows and rows of chairs, neatly arranged. “Hasn’t changed one bit” he thinks, looking at the stage that he was scared to climb back then… He walks out the double-doors, into the dirty balcony, and stares out at the ocean, gleaming like silver in the midday sun, and breathes in a lungful of wet, salty air…






P.S: just testing out Windows Live Writer… pretty cool shiz! :)