See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil has changed to:
Look at the evil with eyes wide open and if possible with magnifying lens tied to a binoculars.
Capture the data of the evil with your high definition zoom cameras.
Listen to all contorted/distorted variations of the tasty morsel of evil with big pitcher ears and headphones.
Then go ahead and shout it through every social media forum available, Telephone, Email, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube etc and try to break the internet by making it go viral to gain all the likes available and hopefully, the highest bidder for your captured evil will come knocking at the door with a fat cheque.
On Thursday’s, I share pictures about ‘Echos of my Neighbourhood.
I would like to invite you to participate. The challenge is quite simple.
Every Thursday, share a photo of bits and pieces of wherever you are at any point in time. It could be houses, backgrounds of your neighbourhood, activities and so forth and you can tag it Echos of my Neighbourhood, add my link to your post so that I will get the ping from your post.
Every other Thursday, I will publish a post with the links of all those who participated the previous week.
This is just a fun way of getting to see more of the World around us through your eyes, since we cannot all be at those places, we can at least see them through you.
Hanging umbrellas at the village
In the blanket of the night
I love the pretty night lights of my evening walk.
The lights at Ibn Battuta
More evening lights
Viewing traffic from an overhead walk way.
Sugar crafted kitchen staff
Catching the Vile one. Sugar craft
Slaying the beast. Sugar craft
We got to taste the cake
Colourful sugar craft
Coffee parlour
Coffee contraptions
Brewing the potent brew.
Catching up on the gist at the train station
Another coffee parlour
Waiting for my cuppa
Bastakiya coffee house
From the pictures above, last few days found me perambulating quite a bit. These were taken in the course of last week.
From attending the food festival and sugar craft show, to going to Bastakiya, the coffee museum and imbibing in coffee so potent that it could knock off your socks and you will float in the air with the buoyancy that it delivered.
I learnt a lot about coffee and took hundreds of photos.
It was thick heavy brew, served in small cups. I couldn’t finish mine because, it seriously gave me bright eyes and I think my hair stood on ends from the buzz that I got.
During my recent foray for freelance writing opportunities, the quote below jumped out from somewhere and glared me in the eyes.
The freelance writer is a man who is paid per piece, or per word or perhaps. Robert Benchley.
The ‘perhaps’ part got stuck in my head, drumming away at my thoughts and I knew that it’s my quote for Writer’s quote Wednesday.
I mulled over it nursing a mug of tea and toast and not willing to accept the perhaps part of these things.
I continued ruminating over it even as I later nursed this yogurt and granola beside me, still questioning the perhaps part of things.
My dull mind refused to acknowledge the fact that perhaps meant you may go for months and months as a writer, waxing brilliant and intelligent words and all, yet pauperized.
Perhaps meant, queries that may never get answered and yet you continue swallowing the bitter pill of your writers pride and keep sending the queries until your name is emblazoned on the medulla oblongata of the editor, until he/she decides to save himself a thriving headache and gives you a space to submit your write up on the different species of Cactus.
I ruminated further, taking off my rose-coloured spectacles and the truth of the matter is that we are all freelancing on our blogs, labouring lovingly over our words with the word ‘perhaps’ hanging in the balance of our thoughts.
‘Perhaps,’ in the long run, every single word would be worth the trouble and your medal as a writer, well worn with pride.
Ronovan knows how to pick the words. For this week, we got ‘Flash & Dance.’ I enjoy this Haiku challenge and I am glad I took it up. Thank you kind Sir 🙂
The flash of lissome thighs As her skirt flounced with the dance Set his spirits on high
************
His flash of false teeth And his toupee that flew with his twist Made her dance steps falter.