Tuesday, May 18, 2010
A roof at night is a roof at night only if you consider climbing up to sit on it and watch the city blink around you. I propose that we clamber up a creeper and loosen a few tiles and go sit on the roof of an unknown house because our terrace is out of bounds. Let us hope there is no dog, and let us hope that there is no watchman around, and let us exclude from our company that one guy who is destined to whirr around people like a noisy fly; he will worry about everything and worry us into knocking things over or cutting our hands against broken glass. And when we are finally on the roof we may clasp the cold necks of our beer bottles and ignore every sound the house beneath us makes. Slowly we will become a line of silhouettes against a lit-up city, and if we aren't found out we may do it again with another house: this I propose to you today and at this moment. Wear chappals.
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5 comments:
I just returned from second rooftop night this week to maybe blog about it but found this instead. Started out with =O but now it's just =)
This post reminded me of a JKJ line: He put his leg into the jam, and he worried the teaspoons, and he pretended that the lemons were rats, and got into the hamper and killed three of them.
Our terrace is out of bounds too.But I'd broken into it,taala-bhenge and all that jazz,would you believe.And it has this perch,a little-jutting-out perch,that makes you feel like you're floating while the city,as you say,blinks around you.
But now terrace has a dependable Godrej nav-tal lock.
that's Montmorency during the packing fiasco, if I remember correctly =D
our terrace is so out of bounds it's like district nine up there.
I don't know you, and I guess it would sound strange if I say that your blog is an addiction, but it is.
I don't know you either, but thanks for stopping by.
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