Friday, January 16, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Ambika
The Leaf Chronicles IV
Leaf 1: Hey, does the sun still exist?
Leaf 2: I don’t know.
Leaf 1: Coz I haven’t seen it in a long long time.
Leaf 2: But how does it matter?
Leaf 1: I’m a sun leaf.
Leaf 2: Ha ha, like a sun person?
Leaf1: Ya laugh that’s all you can do anyway.
Leaf 2: okay ha ha ha.
Leaf 1: I’ll go check with the other leaves.
(On a plant at Ambara)
Leaf 1: Hey, does the sun still exist?
Leaf 2: I don’t know.
Leaf 1: Coz I haven’t seen it in a long long time.
Leaf 2: But how does it matter?
Leaf 1: I’m a sun leaf.
Leaf 2: Ha ha, like a sun person?
Leaf1: Ya laugh that’s all you can do anyway.
Leaf 2: okay ha ha ha.
Leaf 1: I’ll go check with the other leaves.
(On a plant at Ambara)
Ambika
The Leaf Chronicles III
Leaf 1: Hey, would you like to have some water?
Leaf 2: Yes I would.
Leaf 1: Go ask the gardener.
Leaf 2: Is that your idea of a joke?
Leaf 1: No seriously.
Leaf 2: Seriously ridiculous is what you are.
Leaf1: Or play dead.
Leaf 2: And then?
Leaf 1: And then the gardener will take pity on you and pour you some water.
Leaf 2: I play dead and you get the water.
Leaf 1: Of course what are friends for?
Leaf 2: Then why don’t you play dead?
Leaf 1: I am playing dead, don’t you see the way I’m hanging loose.
Leaf 2: So am I.
Leaf 1: Okay cool, let’s do this for a little longer and hope the gardener sees us.
(On a plant in Ambara)
Leaf 1: Hey, would you like to have some water?
Leaf 2: Yes I would.
Leaf 1: Go ask the gardener.
Leaf 2: Is that your idea of a joke?
Leaf 1: No seriously.
Leaf 2: Seriously ridiculous is what you are.
Leaf1: Or play dead.
Leaf 2: And then?
Leaf 1: And then the gardener will take pity on you and pour you some water.
Leaf 2: I play dead and you get the water.
Leaf 1: Of course what are friends for?
Leaf 2: Then why don’t you play dead?
Leaf 1: I am playing dead, don’t you see the way I’m hanging loose.
Leaf 2: So am I.
Leaf 1: Okay cool, let’s do this for a little longer and hope the gardener sees us.
(On a plant in Ambara)
Ambika
The Leaf Chronicles II
Leaf 1: You know what.
Leaf 2: I wouldn’t know till you tell me.
Leaf 1: Ya, I was thinking and I realized that this pot that we’re in, is our home.
Leaf 2: Oh ya.
Leaf 1: This is where we live.
Leaf 2: So?
Leaf 1: So nothing.
Leaf 2: You’re so vague sometimes.
Leaf 1: No I’m not, I’m just saying that this is our ‘home sweet home’.
Leaf 2: Okay, do me a favour.
Leaf 1: Anything for you.
Leaf 2: Stop thinking.
(On a plant in Ambara)
Leaf 1: You know what.
Leaf 2: I wouldn’t know till you tell me.
Leaf 1: Ya, I was thinking and I realized that this pot that we’re in, is our home.
Leaf 2: Oh ya.
Leaf 1: This is where we live.
Leaf 2: So?
Leaf 1: So nothing.
Leaf 2: You’re so vague sometimes.
Leaf 1: No I’m not, I’m just saying that this is our ‘home sweet home’.
Leaf 2: Okay, do me a favour.
Leaf 1: Anything for you.
Leaf 2: Stop thinking.
(On a plant in Ambara)
Ambika
The Leaf Chronicles I
Leaf 1: Hey aren’t we from the same seed.
Leaf 2: Yes we are, I guess.
Leaf 1: We are. Doesn’t that make us brothers?
Leaf 2: Oh, you’re thinking. Again.
Leaf 1: No… please think about it. If we’re from the same seed, doesn’t that make us brothers?
Leaf 2: Yes it does, but now what?
Leaf 1: Let’s hug, we just found each other.
Leaf 2: And shed some tears right? You’re watching too much television.
Leaf 1: You know what your problem is, you have no feelings.
Leaf 2: Then why am I feeling intensely bored right now?
(On a plant at Ambara)
Leaf 1: Hey aren’t we from the same seed.
Leaf 2: Yes we are, I guess.
Leaf 1: We are. Doesn’t that make us brothers?
Leaf 2: Oh, you’re thinking. Again.
Leaf 1: No… please think about it. If we’re from the same seed, doesn’t that make us brothers?
Leaf 2: Yes it does, but now what?
Leaf 1: Let’s hug, we just found each other.
Leaf 2: And shed some tears right? You’re watching too much television.
Leaf 1: You know what your problem is, you have no feelings.
Leaf 2: Then why am I feeling intensely bored right now?
(On a plant at Ambara)
Suzanna
The Mirrori Diaries: 01.09.08
My grandmother was an actress. She acted in a fairytale. Wait, lemme check if her scripts are lying around here somewhere. Yep, here it is. Voila etc etc. Ok, here goes. The fairytale was called Snow White. And she was the magic mirror.
Oh.
(Dramatic pause)
She was acting?
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
My grandmother was an actress. She acted in a fairytale. Wait, lemme check if her scripts are lying around here somewhere. Yep, here it is. Voila etc etc. Ok, here goes. The fairytale was called Snow White. And she was the magic mirror.
Oh.
(Dramatic pause)
She was acting?
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Suzanna
The Mirrori Diaries: 07.09.08
Something very very disturbing happened today. I really don’t know whether I should write about it. But hey, it’s a diary. Well, there was this woman, see. And she, erm, well, wasn’t too pretty. So when unpretty people look in the mirror, they get even more unpretty because they scowl. And this lady here, the unpretty one, scowled right through her haircut. I think she expected us to transform her unprettiness into prettiness. It didn’t work. So she took that big wooden brush and hurled it straight into my face. Yes, I’m a victim of domestic abuse. Help!
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Something very very disturbing happened today. I really don’t know whether I should write about it. But hey, it’s a diary. Well, there was this woman, see. And she, erm, well, wasn’t too pretty. So when unpretty people look in the mirror, they get even more unpretty because they scowl. And this lady here, the unpretty one, scowled right through her haircut. I think she expected us to transform her unprettiness into prettiness. It didn’t work. So she took that big wooden brush and hurled it straight into my face. Yes, I’m a victim of domestic abuse. Help!
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Suzanna
The Mirrori Diaries: 10.09.08
Fly Fleeda dropped by to visit me today. Seeing her after a long time. So I took the fine china out and poured out tea for the two of us. From the looks of it, she’s been out in the sun too much. Scorched and sun burnt she looked. I told her she should come back here, and that we both could get back to our old ways of spending the entire day watching people together. That’s when they turned the electric fly catcher on. Sigh. Poor Fleeda, there she goes flying out into the hot afternoon sun again. Wonder when I’ll see her again.
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Fly Fleeda dropped by to visit me today. Seeing her after a long time. So I took the fine china out and poured out tea for the two of us. From the looks of it, she’s been out in the sun too much. Scorched and sun burnt she looked. I told her she should come back here, and that we both could get back to our old ways of spending the entire day watching people together. That’s when they turned the electric fly catcher on. Sigh. Poor Fleeda, there she goes flying out into the hot afternoon sun again. Wonder when I’ll see her again.
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Suzanna
The Mirrori Diaries: 20.09.08
Yeeearrrgh, a spot. I see a spot on me. Call the maid, get the cleaning fluid out, pour gallons on me, squeaky clean me. And remove the damn spot. Because the woman in front of me here thinks she looks like Marilyn Monroe. Thanks to my spot.
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Yeeearrrgh, a spot. I see a spot on me. Call the maid, get the cleaning fluid out, pour gallons on me, squeaky clean me. And remove the damn spot. Because the woman in front of me here thinks she looks like Marilyn Monroe. Thanks to my spot.
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Suzanna
The Mirrori Diaries: 27.09.08
And today, a man came in. So it is an important event in my life. The first sight of the first species in a salon that is strictly for the fairer of the species, including delicate moi. He had come to repair some of the lighting here, but he took that opportunity to letch at me. I was shy, so I sorta blanked out the first few seconds, and he didn’t see any reflection. He looked quite shocked, and so the next time he glanced at me, I flickered an image of him on.
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
And today, a man came in. So it is an important event in my life. The first sight of the first species in a salon that is strictly for the fairer of the species, including delicate moi. He had come to repair some of the lighting here, but he took that opportunity to letch at me. I was shy, so I sorta blanked out the first few seconds, and he didn’t see any reflection. He looked quite shocked, and so the next time he glanced at me, I flickered an image of him on.
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Suzanna
The Mirrori Diaries: 01.10.08
Today, like all other days, I’m going to entertain myself playing chameleon-chameleon. The rules of the game are simple. I just reflect what goes on around me. I like so blend into the background that you don’t really notice me. Unless, of course, you’ve got a bit of spinach stuck in your teeth and need my help removing it.
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Today, like all other days, I’m going to entertain myself playing chameleon-chameleon. The rules of the game are simple. I just reflect what goes on around me. I like so blend into the background that you don’t really notice me. Unless, of course, you’ve got a bit of spinach stuck in your teeth and need my help removing it.
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Suzanna
The Mirrori Diaries: 12.10.08
I like staring. I’ve spent all day staring at a variety of ladies. Skinny ones, fatty ones, pretty ones, not-so-pretty ones. And I’ve managed to stare each and every one of them out. How? I just make them feel really uncomfortable. Take for example, the woman who looked perfectly fine. She came and stood in front of me. And I just knew she wanted to know whether she was looking perfect. But I showed her what she’d look like if she gained a few pounds. She looked quite stunned. She checked out all angles (just to make sure I was lying), and then she huffed out of here. Without tipping.
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
I like staring. I’ve spent all day staring at a variety of ladies. Skinny ones, fatty ones, pretty ones, not-so-pretty ones. And I’ve managed to stare each and every one of them out. How? I just make them feel really uncomfortable. Take for example, the woman who looked perfectly fine. She came and stood in front of me. And I just knew she wanted to know whether she was looking perfect. But I showed her what she’d look like if she gained a few pounds. She looked quite stunned. She checked out all angles (just to make sure I was lying), and then she huffed out of here. Without tipping.
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Suzanna
The Mirrori Diaries: 24.10.08
Today I woke up with the maid rubbing that sickly piece of yellow flannel all over my pretty face. Yellow flannel scrub-squish of cleaner fluid-scrub-squish-scrub-squish. And then, thankfully, she moves on to a cup of coffee. Which she then proceeds to luke-warm in her palms while she stares at me and adjusts her hair. A tuck here, a tuck there, after which she leaves. That’s it? I mean she gets paid to do this?
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Today I woke up with the maid rubbing that sickly piece of yellow flannel all over my pretty face. Yellow flannel scrub-squish of cleaner fluid-scrub-squish-scrub-squish. And then, thankfully, she moves on to a cup of coffee. Which she then proceeds to luke-warm in her palms while she stares at me and adjusts her hair. A tuck here, a tuck there, after which she leaves. That’s it? I mean she gets paid to do this?
(On a mirror at Peaches, the salon)
Suzanna
Eating Out
Lately I’ve been feeling quite alive. That wasn’t the case when I first got out of rehab. I was quite a mess then (like the others) trying to put the million little pieces of my broken up life back together. I rarely showed emotion, I occasionally smiled, and I never ever showed interest in eating. Then along came this spoon. Hopping along, rather. And she carried something in her hair. Something cold and white and absolutely creamy. She pushed it into my mouth, and I just let it be there. Didn’t swallow it immediately. Just let it stand there and allowed it to take its own course. Which was a melty, rather sensual way of giving in to my warmth. I enjoyed it. And the spoon hopped back to her tray. The next day she sent the fork to me. He was wrapped in a turban of spaghetti which he promptly unraveled into me. Slither, slather, gulp, the onslaught of carbs lulled me into a potato’ey shell, that I refused to leave for the rest of the night. The next day I waited. And waited. And waited. No spoon. No fork. If you have any leftovers could you please put them in here. Ya, right there, on the mud, away from the stalk please. Thank you.
(On one of the plants at Café Fresco’s)
Lately I’ve been feeling quite alive. That wasn’t the case when I first got out of rehab. I was quite a mess then (like the others) trying to put the million little pieces of my broken up life back together. I rarely showed emotion, I occasionally smiled, and I never ever showed interest in eating. Then along came this spoon. Hopping along, rather. And she carried something in her hair. Something cold and white and absolutely creamy. She pushed it into my mouth, and I just let it be there. Didn’t swallow it immediately. Just let it stand there and allowed it to take its own course. Which was a melty, rather sensual way of giving in to my warmth. I enjoyed it. And the spoon hopped back to her tray. The next day she sent the fork to me. He was wrapped in a turban of spaghetti which he promptly unraveled into me. Slither, slather, gulp, the onslaught of carbs lulled me into a potato’ey shell, that I refused to leave for the rest of the night. The next day I waited. And waited. And waited. No spoon. No fork. If you have any leftovers could you please put them in here. Ya, right there, on the mud, away from the stalk please. Thank you.
(On one of the plants at Café Fresco’s)
Suzanna
Wanna Zochz?
Greetings earthlings. I come in peas. Peas coated in a creamy sauce that has 99% butter in it. Not to mention that earthy hint of basil. You could ask for the freshly baked bread to go with it, but I suggest you stick to this in all its purity. I was sent from the planet Zochz, where the only thing that zochz us is food. So if like your peas coated in cream, please switch off your mobile phones tonight at 3 am. You will get a text message from the planet Zochz that will give you the exact co-ordinates of Zochz. Please jot these co-ordinates down on a paper napkin (that you carry home from here), and then the next time you come back here for a meal, please feel free to stand in the pool there and hold the napkin way up over your head and into the sky. You will then see a beam (lined with peas) coming straight down towards you. Press the pea that says ‘Up’, and you will be taken up to the planet Zochz. Sadly, I am not able to reveal myself to you, I have taken on the guise of this wooden desk, else I could’ve demonstrated the entire procedure to you. The part where you press the ‘Up’ pea is crucial. Pressing any other pea could just squash the entire beam, and you would be left standing in a pool coated with pea mush. Trust you will do as advised. See you on Zochz.
(On the reception desk at Café Fresco’s)
Greetings earthlings. I come in peas. Peas coated in a creamy sauce that has 99% butter in it. Not to mention that earthy hint of basil. You could ask for the freshly baked bread to go with it, but I suggest you stick to this in all its purity. I was sent from the planet Zochz, where the only thing that zochz us is food. So if like your peas coated in cream, please switch off your mobile phones tonight at 3 am. You will get a text message from the planet Zochz that will give you the exact co-ordinates of Zochz. Please jot these co-ordinates down on a paper napkin (that you carry home from here), and then the next time you come back here for a meal, please feel free to stand in the pool there and hold the napkin way up over your head and into the sky. You will then see a beam (lined with peas) coming straight down towards you. Press the pea that says ‘Up’, and you will be taken up to the planet Zochz. Sadly, I am not able to reveal myself to you, I have taken on the guise of this wooden desk, else I could’ve demonstrated the entire procedure to you. The part where you press the ‘Up’ pea is crucial. Pressing any other pea could just squash the entire beam, and you would be left standing in a pool coated with pea mush. Trust you will do as advised. See you on Zochz.
(On the reception desk at Café Fresco’s)
Suzanna
Chocolate Addict
I was brought up to believe that the only food I could ever need was fresh air and sunshine. The occasional rain would whet my appetite for the sunshiny feast ahead. And the air would serve as dessert for thick lustrous hair and long, lean, strong limbs. But then one day I got a whiff of chocolate sauce being thickly stirred in all its gooey glory. I died. Died like the girl in her teens who sees Brad Pitt for the first time. The coco scents just continued. Way into the evening, way past sunset, and it stuck in my hair and refused to leave me alone in my dreams at night. The coco caresses smothered my skin in a haze of brown and sugar. The whiffs made me giddy and left me reeling in a liquid of chocolate splendour that I could never feel or taste, but only smell. And when I awoke the next day, I had but a few hours of fresh air, before the onset of the chocolate hours. They paralysed me; even the wind stopped moving through me. I stood there not knowing what I could possibly do to get to the source. The centre of all that coco’ey essence. It must be a beautiful place. Then a little birdy told me. She asked me to stretch my roots down through the ground, past the people walking, past the cars running, way down to the chocolate.
And I did.
(On one of the trees at Café Fresco’s)
I was brought up to believe that the only food I could ever need was fresh air and sunshine. The occasional rain would whet my appetite for the sunshiny feast ahead. And the air would serve as dessert for thick lustrous hair and long, lean, strong limbs. But then one day I got a whiff of chocolate sauce being thickly stirred in all its gooey glory. I died. Died like the girl in her teens who sees Brad Pitt for the first time. The coco scents just continued. Way into the evening, way past sunset, and it stuck in my hair and refused to leave me alone in my dreams at night. The coco caresses smothered my skin in a haze of brown and sugar. The whiffs made me giddy and left me reeling in a liquid of chocolate splendour that I could never feel or taste, but only smell. And when I awoke the next day, I had but a few hours of fresh air, before the onset of the chocolate hours. They paralysed me; even the wind stopped moving through me. I stood there not knowing what I could possibly do to get to the source. The centre of all that coco’ey essence. It must be a beautiful place. Then a little birdy told me. She asked me to stretch my roots down through the ground, past the people walking, past the cars running, way down to the chocolate.
And I did.
(On one of the trees at Café Fresco’s)
Suzanna
The Tan Test
And that night, like all other nights, the Tan family had no clue what to do for dinner. The weather had gotten all global-warmified and Mrs Tan wasn’t feeling too good. Result? The Tan family was left meal-less for nearly a week. Tonight would be the eighth night.
The seven itsy children looked up at Mr and Mrs Tan with their big black eyes. Mr and Mrs Tan looked at each other with their big black eyes. And then. Just like that. No, actually with a pop! Mr Tan had a little bulb hovering over his head. Mrs Tan lit it with the flick of a switch. Click.
Let’s go out and eat.
Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay!
Said all the itsy children altogether.
So it was decided that Mr Tan would have a nice juicy steak, Mrs Tan would have a seafood risotto and the junior Tans would have strawberry soda pop, lemon meringue pie, a lamb burger, french fries with oodles of ketchup, shepherd’s pie (for the oldest one), con carne cajun and fish fingers.
Yummy! Yummy! Yummy! Yummy! Yummy! Yummy! Yummy!
What a good time we’ll all have.
And to the restaurant they all went. All neat, in a line and all, you know. They were a very well-behaved family, and Mrs Tan made sure everyone was as propah as propah as ever.
Left, left, left right left. Left, left, left right left.
Haaa-aaalt.
The whole Tan file came to a screeching halt.
“Oh, this restaurant doesn’t let in ants”, said the juniorest Tan, big huge tears welling up in her big black eyes.
(On one of the pillars near one of the tables at Café Fresco’s)
And that night, like all other nights, the Tan family had no clue what to do for dinner. The weather had gotten all global-warmified and Mrs Tan wasn’t feeling too good. Result? The Tan family was left meal-less for nearly a week. Tonight would be the eighth night.
The seven itsy children looked up at Mr and Mrs Tan with their big black eyes. Mr and Mrs Tan looked at each other with their big black eyes. And then. Just like that. No, actually with a pop! Mr Tan had a little bulb hovering over his head. Mrs Tan lit it with the flick of a switch. Click.
Let’s go out and eat.
Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay!
Said all the itsy children altogether.
So it was decided that Mr Tan would have a nice juicy steak, Mrs Tan would have a seafood risotto and the junior Tans would have strawberry soda pop, lemon meringue pie, a lamb burger, french fries with oodles of ketchup, shepherd’s pie (for the oldest one), con carne cajun and fish fingers.
Yummy! Yummy! Yummy! Yummy! Yummy! Yummy! Yummy!
What a good time we’ll all have.
And to the restaurant they all went. All neat, in a line and all, you know. They were a very well-behaved family, and Mrs Tan made sure everyone was as propah as propah as ever.
Left, left, left right left. Left, left, left right left.
Haaa-aaalt.
The whole Tan file came to a screeching halt.
“Oh, this restaurant doesn’t let in ants”, said the juniorest Tan, big huge tears welling up in her big black eyes.
(On one of the pillars near one of the tables at Café Fresco’s)
Suzanna
Flower Flower
I’m a little flower.
Happy night and day.
I sing all day.
I snore all night.
I must be truly God’s own child.
(On a potted flowering pot at the First Steps kindergarten)
I’m a little flower.
Happy night and day.
I sing all day.
I snore all night.
I must be truly God’s own child.
(On a potted flowering pot at the First Steps kindergarten)
Suzanna
Swing-a-Song
Swing me up.
Swing me down.
Swing me any way.
But don’t swing me out.
(On a swing at the First Steps kindergarten)
Swing me up.
Swing me down.
Swing me any way.
But don’t swing me out.
(On a swing at the First Steps kindergarten)
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