My life as a ball of air (.o.)

You played with me. I can’t remember the year precisely for I never aged. Every now and then I need to inhale a lump sum of air and that is all I consume. I literally live on air just as the monks in Himalayas do. I have breathed the same oxygen that Socrates, Shakespeare, Shelley had consumed. I hold history.

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Four circles sliding down

As a child your legs were so free. They had made a pact with me that it will never desert me, no matter what; be it the the ghastly wind and rain of storm Gertrude or the scorching heat of the British Indian summer.
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And the pact was dutifully followed. And Monsieur Laistr showed the agility of his legs to the kids in Kenya and Tanzania; my joy knew no bounds; I was transported by the leg bearer wherever he(she) went. The legs and me saw the river Nile and the Rhinoceroses, the Atacama desert of South America and our dear Brazilian Rique, and also numerous clouds and insects. People and Nature criss-crossed wherever they went. I am the foster parent of billions of people. I am revered. I am sanctified. I am celebrated. Am I God, I sometimes wonder.

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At times I get kicked very harsh in my belly like that time when that thug mollified his anger with much violence, in Rua Vicantesbergii in South Africa.
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One fine morning, I see this old worker ant, carrying a leaf blade, almost ten times its size, was crossing the bicycle lane, from one side to the other, very carefully, never letting go of the leaf, with nimble and meticulous movements. I was wondering why it needs the leaf. And then I could not believe my hexagons. That miniscule of a creature has come to watch Monsieur Laistr play with me in South Lawn at Rockwood Park and the leaf was chewed upon during the halftime break with its cousins and nieces. History was written right and there.
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And then another day, I see this old woman; indeed she was old for she had wrinkles; like the one we see on a beach where the receding water has created many miles of undulations; she sweeps the cobbled pavement outside her house; every day; the wind too
plays with her; for a moment a small leaf is momentarily airborne, experiencing
zero gravity; Just like I  experience when Monsieur Laistr’s legs lets me afloat with so much care; She, I and the leaf and the leg have shared history together.
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Ah, such memories do I hold in my spherical belly; I wish I could share it with the basketball and the quanco. I hope we get to play together one day.

 

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