A Sketch

Rough Sketch Of Introductory Dialogue:

I can be a kindergarden, I may pull back my hat and unlace my shoelaces and our youth can be  shared. And as I  grow up, I can  be a tall building of a big city, made of steel. And  I may pull a solid very grey tie and a shiny shoes to claim adultness.  

I distress then now as I think about it because I have to keep it  realistic, sometimes I have to tie my shoelaces so I don't fall and turn my hat around for the sun, and for the future near to come I may relax my tie on summer and stain my shoes on its rainy days. Does that meant that I become less of a kid, or less of an adult?A disappearing flight overcame my senses. Oh I hope not to disturb my bricks by these melancholic schemes.

I remember what my grandma use to say when she referred to the unusual countenances of  the tablecloth, as she aired it, in her mischievous paused voice said: “The impediment  seeing the tangible aspects of it may not be a problem, the problem is when people cease to see a meaning in it and forget its an illusion.”

Her gaze was all wrinkle but  her smile and eyes remained unaffected. And although her gaze seemed more heavy and more attached to the bone she attained  the kind of dignity a fainted facade bestows on its longevity…