The Joking Trees.

I am sitting in a large studio style living room-cum-kitchen with many very large windows. I smell tea and my ears savor Indian classical raagas, while i write this small piece. It is neither too bright not too dark for an early October. The Sun is shrouded in the dark sky. Yet at times my eyes go blind in struggle between the Sun and the clouds. It feels like my own Japanese tea ceremony with myself. I sit among non-living things. I see trees with a mirthless smile. I feel no difference. Who knows they joke among themselves, about us the self-proclaimed-all-knowing-ones.