Pool_2

>> Undo <<

We live in a time of complacent platitudes. Deep and uncomfortable truths often require shovels to set them free. For some, revelation can ease in almost unnoticed but for others it has to be mauled into their skulls at the end of a long handle. It is all about receptivity, a dangerously diminished asset of arrogance. "Hey! How did you get in here?" a very startled response looking hurriedly left and right and over his unexpected guest's shoulder with worried unfulfilled expectation, "Who the hell are you?" A simple and lilting reply, " So, am I to assume that you have poor memory? Poorer eyesight perhaps? Or maybe you were even drunker than you looked on the occasion of the great saint? Hmmm? Oh, how foolish of me! I did not wear the make up today. Well, are you just going to gawk? Is this the way to welcome an old man of words?" Man of words sparked an aborted feeling of near recognition but disbelief was still in charge. This host was an unwilling one as was given away by his severe and strained body language. A teeth clenched grimace, quite like that of a chimpanzee, was set off by laterally drawn eyes which still conveyed, Who the hell are you? and perhaps, Who the hell do you think you are? No one was supposed to know about this place. This host was very discrete and selective about what guests were invited here and this intruder clearly didn't fit the physique. So much is conveyed in postures, a roaming scanning insistence that someone else was missing, someone important. "Where is Carlo? Huh? CARLO. CARLO!.." There was no reply. "Oh that big fellow, Mr. Verdad? We may have hurt his feelings. He headed out."