His eyes took the scene in. He saw a woman walking into the picture plane from the left with a flat huge bowl balanced on her head. She was about to cross paths with a Reverend in dressed in black complete with a hat from whose right hand a walking cane issued. Just behind them two men, while on a stroll were talking. One of them who was wearing a white shirt seem animated as his right hand stretched out to emphasise what he was saying to his companion. Just behind the pair was a man who seemed like a labourer entering the scene from the top right pushing a wheelbarrow. Moje’KJoe noted that should one draw a line between the woman entering the scene from the bottom left of the viewer, the one with a flat container on her head, and the Reverend; they will experience a perfect straight line. However when that line is extended to the two men taking a stroll the line will extend from the Reverend diagonally even if its straightness can be maintained until it reached the man pushing the wheel barrow. The man pushing the wheel barrow cannot take this line further since the wall behind him delimits the line’s extension in this direction. The line dies here or rather it acutely changes direction here. Besides the direction of the wheelbarrow and the man move the eyes back into the picture plane.
Moje’kJoe Papapaah felt like deserting the bridge for a while: It would be a while before the Jotmaster and the apprentice return from their expedition of the current textual chain. Moments earlier when he checked the monitor all was well with them within the tex-Ah-verse. And outside of the cockpit he observed that the alpha numerical belts were stable as the hover craft cruised smoothly. It could be an hour or so before they crack the current code. At any rate the Jotmaster preferred to move cautiously in these matters, preferring to savour every detail of the pseudo reality erected by the alphanumerical belts. While the two were gone this could be the opportunity to indulge in his own fancies, a trip involving art. He looked at his smart chronograph strapped on his left wrist. With a long press at the centre of the digital dial the rectangular screen was pervaded by a vibgyor spectrum after it disperse the arms. He mimicked the number 1-9-4-0-, and an inflection ’ chasing – S.
Continue reading “The golden soil”
You like? He asked me earlier on aboard Theta with a bow and outstretched arms, legs drawn in a capital T. At that time, I must admit, the dramatic gesture drew attention to the intense colours of his garb. I silently joked that the only missing item was a bowler hat which, has it been acquired and thrown into this outfit culinary it would’ve have shot it up the rank to clown buffoonery scoring. I don’t think these intense colours were meant for matured people like yourself, master, came my reply as I held his gaze. He laughed an uncontrollably which left me very concerned that he was finally loosing it. We will see. I said to myself as I joined him in the bridge taking my seat in the second command. Theta grumbled once and took off. You’ll see. He reiterated as if he had been reading my mind. I shook my sideways gaze away from his narrow figure in the main controls.
Bring /Carry or accompany to a place/
Braai/an outdoor meal or party at which food is grilled over a charcoal fire/
Paradox/a statement that sounds absurd or seems to contradict itself, but may in fact be true/
*n.b. See Oxford Paperback Dictionary Thesaurus & Wordpower Guide.
We were walking through row after row in the market place. The alphanumericalverse had rendered a summer morning with clouds shying away from each other to give the sky big pools of blue hues. It felt formidably warm. Luckily all the vendors had been thrown into a mega dome that was surprisingly cool. But the chorus of sellers and buyers bidding prices to and fro buzzed the dome into a hive. Welcome to the food market! Mockingly announced my master. He was wearing a pink sweeter and yellow linen trousers, his feet were shoved into green shoes. Colour blocking, I snickered at this display of showiness especially for an old man. But the Jotmaster refuses to match his age, repeatedly he insists on being ageless. Continue reading “The Bring and Braai Paradox”
Take Two Take Five and Take Ten which could otherwise be expressed as Take (verb) Two (noun) Take (verb) Five (noun) and Take (verb) Ten (noun) swirling around the cockpit until a sonic construction Tick-Toh-Tick-Foh-Tick-Tin. With the former expressed (verb)(noun)(verb) (noun)(verb)(noun) genitivally to make bare their syntactic relations.
/retribution for one’s actions (especially in a day of reckoning)/
The sequel to Tag, Tag Two, which upon its conception I was very proud and hasten to show it to my questionable guru the Jotmaster has not garnered popularity in the blogosphere. The stats so far have been boosted by other entries. When I showed it to him the Jotmaster hinted that its sonic nature alluded to Take Two. Of course he was his skeptical self in thinking that this latest meditation of his will mean anything to me. But it did. Even though my titling of the work was not intentional – I was merely keeping a promise to my handful array of readers. For your information I am still mixing a textual recipe to explore the silent referencing of texts to other text within a verbal construct. And yes I made myself a promise that it won’t be a long dragging outing when finally penned.
Continue reading “Tag *Reckoning and the persistent Asterisk”