Carousel

My walk in the park’s track is my carousel, leading and turning without goal. But consciousness moves with the body and it is consequently not carousel.

Like the baggage conveyor in the airport where the luggage comes at you and goes away nonchalantly if not picked up ,only to come at you again.I imagine me on the rim of an oval circle and my body walking on the track.

I and body together- we participate in this grand carousel. I move in concentric circles,ever widening circles around the park.I touch the park’s periphery and move from there in widening circles first on the roads skirting the park and then move away towards the lake. Near the park I see men in black who smelled of God’s incense in the hills.I walk past men and women frothing at their mouths with tooth-paste.

On the lakeside men and women deal in animal and aquatic bodies.. The goats being dead in blood and flesh,their bodies hang upside down.The fish ,since dead ,rest in peace in the fisher-woman’s brown basket. Everything comes back in the carousel .

During return, shirts and trousers stared from a balcony as if they were people.

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