The First Day of Spring_Return to Limecaster_The Peas Plough_Train to Taitung
Catalog Guide:
The First Day of Spring
“Look, Abner, a flock of geese! You know what that means?” “No, Carl, I don’t know what that means,” Abner replied to the old man sitting next to him. “It means spring has finally begun!” Carl’s eyes lit up behind his coke-bottle glasses, his wrinkled face forming a gleeful smile. “No, it doesn’t. It’s too early for spring.” “What do you mean? The snow geese fly north in the spring. Those are snow geese, we are north, so it must be spring!” “Birds are dumb, a lot dumber than scientists and engineers. Even scientists get things wrong sometimes. If the smartest people alive can make mistakes, wh...
Return to Limecaster
You can never go back. That’s one of the most common clichés THEY, that amorphous, admonishing THEY like to trot out. Or its slightly more wordy variant, You showww.onedoor.cculdn’t try to go back, which tells you that not only is it impossible (that word try!) it is also morally, or at least psychologically questionable (that word should!). Well, I don’t care. I don’t care in the slightest, and when I was told that the publishing firm I was working for wanted someone to be relocated to their new office in Limecaster, I almost literally jumped at the chance. I certainly felt my feet leave the ground. It was...
The Peas Plough
I exited my chilled car and felt the warm breeze of a regular evening in Delhi touch my skin. I slouched and collected my heavy files, heavy purse and the light lunch bag from the back seat and walked towards my home entrance. It was a rather old 10 storey building that had a rusty iron door, which seemed like it would fall the second someone would touch it but it never did. It would squeak as it swung on its hinges but nothing more. I moved forward to the main building which was a shade of dirty yellow and grey from old age and the water leakages. I had trodden into something which looked lik...
Train to Taitung
After wiping the fried chicken crumbs from the plastic surface, I fall back onto the cold, uninviting seat of the train. Dusting myself off, I gently massage my knee, trying to ease the slight burning sensation left from the fall. Just moments ago I had leapt onto the carriage, falling hard onto all fours, as I came flying through the sliding doors of train number 408 on the Taroko Express, barely in time for the doors to close behind me. A regular occurrence based on the lack of reaction from the people around me, simply continuing with their day-to-day. 7:16, Robert, the train leaves at 7:16...