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Oh! how she liked it?


Sitting her self on the perimeter of a beautiful fountain, Ursula wondered how trivial her life was. Clouds overhead dissolved into one another, gaped at her, made funny faces, and retreated into the great body of sky. Great body of water before her silently observed as if in muse, blankly stared at her, through her, and she felt disembodied, formless, sitting there, she felt invisible to herself, existing only in the moments of action, but otherwise dissolving into the surroundings. She summoned all her substance, when an external object called in question, but otherwise she remained formless, non-existential. Time, what does she care about time, she did not like intoning those words to a stranger, but she did, ten past seven, stranger was pleased, and she disembodied again, dissolved into molecules, she did not want to exist, if it was for dispelling time to strangers, the world could live without her, she was insignificant, world doesn't need her, her presence is ephemeral, she lived on the surface, she shared no access to the core, she wondered if there was a core to the world. Water flowing downstream amused her, where to? She asked her self, and why? This constant flow, perpetual exclusivity, how she is kept unawares of all the flow, she is detached, she is not an inclusion in the flow, she dreaded the thought, repulsive, despicable, and notorious. clouds descend , stoop to look closely at her, drawing with them, a sudden bleak darkness, shadows of spite weighing down on her, numbing her senses, compressing her room, forcing her to exist again, but she did not want to. Nothing makes any sense now, her trivial existence. Her insignificance burdening her, pulling her emotions asunder, fighting the enveloping waves, cramped her room from the forces exclusive from her existence, she regained her existence, but this is an infinite regress. Oh! How she liked it, when she could not exist anymore.

Machine humming to life bored Ursula, it bothered her that man counted making the machine in his list of accomplishments. It did not matter; all time is lost, and lost into the farthest corners of the propensity. she hesitated, but she had to do it, she removed the wall clock, dumped it in the waste basket, stared at the polished whiteness on the wall that retained the features of clock, the purity of it lifted her with evanescence, she was pure, she felt the purity on the wall, touched it, caressed it. Then it occurred to her, something protected her, or someone or she would be impure by now, but she was pure, as white as the whiteness on the wall, but who protected her. Her obtuseness gave way to crisp vision; she looked through the wall, no signs there. It did not matter; she was trivial, insignificant, and unnecessary. Then she thought, ironically, it did not matter that 'it did not matter' for it just did not matter. She should drown herself in a sea, gracefully depart, but, where to?

Sound of music lifted her up in air, swung her hither and thither, she felt the ground beneath her slipping far away, receding faster than the speed of light, and she lay there hung up in mid air, no one beside her, no object in her vision, she experienced vacuum, she could not feel anything, not smell anything, only hear, and hear with each sound wave diffusing into her body , crests lifting her up, troughs pushing her down, as on a saddle, but her room constrained, pressure increased, volume went up, she billowed in waves, with ebbs pulling her into a wormhole, and then suddenly, sound of music shot through her ears, pierced through them, squeaking past her, wither? she prepared herself, as the wave approached, she caught it inside her head, trapped waves bouncing inside blew open the throat cover and flew downwards through her neck pipe into the stomach, dissolved into blood, superimposed with the arteries and flew voluptuously throughout the body, reached the ends of toes and fingers, lost their intensity on their way and finally subsided.

Music interested Ursula; she found crickets chirping and sound of night ingratiating. Horses galloped rhythmically, wind swooped and placated, water sprinkled smoothly, crisply. All these sounds evolved over a period of time into tapping our senses enchantingly, she thought. she sang, millions of nerves released their pent up tension and she sang fully, she sang gorgeously, she sang facing the sun, she sang with her face inside water, she sang pouting her lips, seductively, she made faces ominously, and she sang and sang.

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