“Salamander, will you kiss me?”, what a despicable thought. It was the time I should have realized that I was over staying in the mud pond. Meanwhile the salamander was too lazy to reply, it was too hot, and like me the salamander also only thought of thinking and did nothing to reply my perversion. After all, it was hot, searing hot, the summer of Bloomington.
Famines are funny. People die out of hunger. Funny, because I am hungry most of the time if not all the time and I live on. In famine, if your stomach is hungry and you are unable to provide then you die. Whereas, if it is your brain, that is hungry, unprovided, in famine, it lives on. When in famine, poison is also nourishing. I have seen it, hordes of people nourished by poison.