The Internet

Breathless

Paris. Jean-Paul Belmondo as Michel. Jean Seberg as Patricia. He a gangster. She an American student.


A bout de souffle (Breathless, 1959). Godard's finest. One of my favorites. Some lovely quotes, which abound in my head:

Michel: "There's no need to lie. It's like poker. The truth is best. The others still think you're bluffing, so you win. "

Patricia: ''I don't know if I am unhappy because I am not free, or if I am not free because I am unhappy.''

Michel: "If you don't like the sea... and don't care for the mountains... and don't like the big city either... go hang yourself! "

Patricia: "We look at each other in the eye, and it's no use. "

Michel: "Reminds me of the one about the condemned man. Climbing the scaffold stairs, he trips, and says, "It figures..."

Patricia: "It's sad to fall asleep. It separates people. Even when you're sleeping together, you're all alone. "

Michel: " It's silly, but I love you. I wanted to see you, to see if I'd want to see you. "

Patricia: " We're hiding like elephants when they're happy. "

and finally the best -
Patricia: "Do you know William Faulkner? "
Michel: "No. Who's he? Have you slept with him? "

---
Source for the quotes

The Cafe Coffee Day Story

The whiff of smoke decided to curl this time. An instant later, it formed a circle. Slowly vaporizing into the steamy humid Sunday afternoon.

Life had come full circle.

They sat there looking at each other. A tear had already made an unpleasant appearance.

On a steamy Sunday afternoon in Cafe Coffee Day, history was being repeated.

"What made you do this?" she asked.

A second tear somehow eked out of the other eye and made its presence felt.

Another whiff of smoke. No curls this time.

"I thought it long and hard. I had no choice," he said with the same trademark nonchalance.

She palpitated. Those words ran through her heart faster than what the blood could imagine.

"Is this really happening?" she thought.

Without any further drooling, he removed the sheaf of papers and placed it on the desk. A pen rolled on top of it for a moment and aligned its tip over the Gandhi photo of the government document.

She gingerly picked up the document and read the part that mattered the most.

Another tear.

The signature came very soon. He had hesitated for a second.

She grabbed the document and took a long drag. This time the cigarette felt better than the last time. The smoke was happier than before.

He could not hold himself anymore. Tears enveloped his face now. With utter disregard to an ogling waiter, a few yards away.

"Slut....bitch...whore, may you burn in hell" he squeaked to her in the mad reverie. She returned back the cute yet evil grin. He stood up, picked up his briefcase and handed the same ogling waiter a 500 rupee note, before storming out of the cafe.

The waiter observed the prim gentleman in the decorous Armani suit get into the Prius and scream onto the accelerator. He gazes towards the table where he had turned into a cry baby. The sexy lady (with the deep cleavage) was picking up her purse and getting ready to leave. He knew her. He had seen her before. Every few months, with different guys. But a similar sheaf of papers.

Ache

Moments of apocryphal hysteria
Lucidity of the skulduggery

Pebbles wet from the massive tide
Confusion under the hegemony

The Arachnid Story

The arachnid moved calmly. It was not scared. No fear, it was beaming loudly. The fleeting movement of its nimble limbs, the peering tiny slant eyes, the arched back, the weaving of the secreted enzymes as a yarn and a host of other extraordinary abilities made him stand out as the alpha creature of his species. Most importantly, what stood out for me - NO FEAR. Maybe, it had not known a human before this.

I tore through the left flank of the primeval web. With mild trepidation, it stared at me. Wondering what his next step should be. Any other creature who knows the wrath of man would have run for cover. Here was someone who did not even know the wrath of God. Without a moment to lose, it jumped to the periphery and started rebuilding its decapitated home.

Two days later, its new mansion was ready to be experimented upon. It lay dozing there near the center fiercely protecting its territory and keeping an eye on intruders. At the edge lay the carcass of a monster mosquito. So this was very likely his siesta time. I poured a few drops of water. The web shuddered under a few tiny droplets and many links gave way. Heartbreak. Another long stare. Contemplation. Give up or bow to man. Chooses the former and goes about another torrid round of hard work.

I was in awe. Bowed to him and gifted it two mosquitoes - which bore my blood.

Maybe, animals can fight the tyranny of man. Size doesn't matter.

PS: Pure fiction. No animals were harmed while writing this.