two different people. aquaintances. but poles apart. me: something they share.
two different versions to what should have been the same narrative. coz it was the same place. the same people. the same time. both together.
what one loved the other hated. what remain fond memories for one is what the other loathed. they each see in the other what the mirror doesnt show them. nor what is revealed to me. i am just a medium. on which both paint pictures with their words. the strokes clash. confuse. bewilder.
probably each caused the anger with which the other hand held the brush...
2 comments:
objectivity is relative...is it?
you could say that. actually its demanding yet unsuccessful. its sarcastic
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