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It was always difficult for Dubleu to differentiate his thoughts. To set one apart from another. Dubleu felt all his thoughts were sticky. Always ready to overlap. Become one. He frequently wondered if he should call this a unification of thoughts or a diversification. But whatever this was it always left his head clogged and moist. So, he decided to call them his damp thoughts.
Tonight, Dubleu found himself frequently confused between the image of the lizard and her.
Dubleu knew what this would mean for the readers. They are far more prone to find symbolisms in situations as such than there often really is, in the reality. Dubleu knew for himself that his thoughts were mostly meaningless but he found it hard to convince others of the same. When he had signed the contract with me he would have seldom thought that his thoughts would become this important. Dubleu never used to think of his thoughts. But now for the sake of the readers, Dubleu would not only have to think of his thoughts but think more specifically on what to think of his thoughts.
I just found that in the last paragraph I had written a sentence like – Dubleu knew for himself that his thoughts were mostly meaningless but he found it hard to convince others of the same. Most definitely not a statement that should be ideally introduced in the third chapter. Without the order of the particular events that sentence is more meaningless than Dubleu’s thoughts. And I know Dubleu won’t exactly be praiseworthy of the fact that I’d brought it up over here. Anyways, I’ll have to deal with Dubleu and that sentence later on; right now, let’s get back to the story.
She didn’t like lizards. Niether in person, nor as delicacies.
Shit! What does that mean? Be more specific.
She didn’t like lizards. Not even in person, let’s leave out the question of those being served as delicacies because she hadn’t been eating them.
Oh no! That’s worse. Much worse. Come on, think think think. Think before it’s too late.
Ah! Got it!
She didn’t like lizards. Living or dead. When she had found a battalion of ants celebrating one its corpses, eating through it, she had asked Dubleu –
“What do they find so delicious about that?”
“Flesh.” Dubleu had answered innocently.
“But ants never ate lizards. I dunno but I think they’re poisonous.”
“Maybe, they’re eating him now ‘coz he’d been eating some of them when he was alive.”
“You mean, revenge? But what help would that be?”
“Ants have their own civilizations. And with civility comes severity.”
Tonight, Dubleu found himself frequently confused between the image of the lizard and her. When the lizard waltzed inside his head, so did she. At times he wished he was there inside his own head. He wanted to waltz with her. But the lizard won’t leave her alone. The lizard took her away in the hidden corners of his head. And his head-ek would return. He would find the world outside becoming hazy and dark, once more. And his world inside would illuminate.
I see this same illumination coming back to Dubleu a few days later, when he’d run out of a room filled with strangers and her, and run through the hallway. On his way he’d step on the last lizard that he’d find dead. And it’d change everything about the two worlds.