Wednesday, August 6, 2008


Lights went out, life of lab nearing closing hours, usually heavy with tiredness, weary faces and palpable boredom, was instantaneously transformed. Exit signs glowed green in the semi-darkness, Bunsen burners had eyes under their spell. Strands of wispy blue and orange filled the room with a warm cosy glow. This is life with layers sliced away, usual, mundane and ordinariness removed, leaving a raw canvas of rarely seen but nonetheless magical elements. The same fire we see everyday slogging away in the lab cursing the fact that we had to do the dentures ourselves. Moments of awe. Then the gas went out. Instruments slammed into tool boxes, feet shuffled, swiveling chairs roughly pushed around, people left.
Plunged into darkness. Finding way to locker to retrieve bags to head home was a fun experience. It's amazing what a black-out could do, usually I leave frustrated at the fact all this struggling, all the hard work were gonna start over again the next day. But today, it's just all exciting unexpected fun. Code orange, enforced evacuation.

On the tram, a woman sat down next to me with a bouquet of fresh flowers. So fresh, new and alive that you feel at the lightest finger nail scratch all the bubbling life-sustaining natural goodness would ooze out of the lilies and gerberas. Life was suddenly filled with quiet overwhelming joy.

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