Wednesday, June 11, 2008
'Pain' is bread in French, so as to clear all misconceptions. Pronounced as 'Paaaç' with a nasal intonation at the end.
Sitting next to me in the train was this old lady. The rich and sophisiticated types. She was dressed tip top and wore white gloves. The kind that golfers have. She emanated an air of aristocracy. I tried very hard not to look her way, but my eyes kept straying and I continued gazing upon her with awe. Then she took out this white handbag. Written on its side were the words 'GUCCI', the sides of which glistened with every motion. At this point I had shed all remnants of decency and was gaping at her without shame. Out from her bag came this object wrapped in white paper. Her hands(covered with white gloves) slowly unwrapped a piece of bread. She tore it from the side. I watched her chew the dry piece of bread. She did this again and again. No topping nothing. One dry piece of bread after another. I felt like I was peering into her life through a telescope. Dry, cold and emotionless.