Camphor’s

There is a strange thumping noise that I heard. Paying a little more attention revealed that it wasn't just thumping, there were many tiny taps, and bumps, and soem cruel imitations of clicks and cracks. On investigating, it became obvious that a large number of Little People were engaged in that most ancient of dances. It is said that Shiva danced it – rarely – as an act of fury that would destroy the world, since it was usually succeeded by the opening of the Third Eye.

I would welcome the open Third Eye at this point, I am sure. There, on the crimson tubes that regularly pulsed, there is a life that beats and does not stop. The tunnels wind their way through God knows exactly how much useless matter. Somehow, it seems that the material itself constricts and relaxes. Springs, my dazed minds thinks, and Browning. The connection still escapes me.

Meanwhile the Little People’s dance gets more fantastic and even more furious. Clearly, they have an agenda to complete, and it does not include peace. Round and round they whirl, colourful skirts and cloaks of crimson, red and maroon flying behind them, their little feet hitting the smooth white floor hard. It might have been an upside down world, but it was theirs. Around them, is a heavy liquid, as dense as can be imagined, apparently trying to cushion the effects of their hammers and tongs.

All seems blurred and the area of confusion spreads, will this Tandava never stop? I have a headache.