The Natural One

First he glanced at that aged, worn, though seemingly happy, old lady. Somehow she still looked like as if she possessed an ancestral connexion with the Middle-People- the Chinese

Then he realised that every person should be located in the middle of their respective maps, lest they would be misplaced. That is, if they worked with maps whatsoever. I don’t know much about these things.

At last, not without some effort, he could realise: she was- and was only- the old lady who, though worn of age, could smile on a effortlessly tiresome Monday out of pure wisdom; and acknowledged that we mustn’t think of creation as something that should be done in inbetweeners- moments after the retirement; Sundays; holidays; lonely evenings. It must be done amongst the rush of day in an effort to displace the certainty of central things amidst our living and amongst our lives.

Nonetheless, the smile, uplifting as it was, couldn’t last longer than the subsequent moment, for, anyhow, she was only human- as he promptly hurried himself to reconsider.