“He’s an aggressive fellow, this moth,” I say to Manucci.
“Love Saab, “He replies.
“I never knew you were such a romantic.”
He blushes, “The poets say a moth will do anything out of love for the flame.”
“How do you know what the poets say?”
“I used to sneak into Pak Tea House and listen.”
The moth stops swooping, enters a holding pattern about two feet above the candle, and then lands on the wall in front of us. It’s gray with a black dot on its back that looks like an eye.
“That’s an ugly moth I say.”
Manucci says nothing.
The moth doesn’t move.
“He’s afraid,” Manucci says.
“He should be. Loves a dangerous thing.” I look carefully. Dark streaks run down the moths folded wings.
“Maybe he’s burnt himself.”

I don’t know how, why {WHY} I begin on such a morbid note. But then again, I don’t know why I decided to make my own blog account. I think it has something to do with me.
I do not enjoy talking about love. Dreadful word that. But one need not enjoy something to do it. I know of writers who do not want to write, I know of bankers who would rather study walruses in the Arctic Circle and I know of me, who would rather be vigorously blending my instant coffee pack and brewing up a good night’s anti-sleep.
What I do enjoy, though, is bungee jumping. I adore babies and animals even more. But I’ll start talking about love because now that is something we can all share a little hindsight on.
I don’t like men. Well, maybe just a few of them. They’re all a little stupid if you ask me. They lie and think you’d never get to know.
And then they make busy people like me waste their time on writing about them. All very dodgy if you ask me, but who is asking me?
I’m not much of a doubter, so if someone states that they care I would say to myself, oh, but they {MUST}. *Maham smiles adoringly*
I’m not bitter at all. I’m not much of a smiler either. I’m somewhere in between. You could call me a grinner. I grin down at everyone. Not because I know more, just because they know less.
Could I stop now, I’m somewhat tired. And then if I don’t stop, I wouldn’t give you any reason to keep on waiting.
I love that. Keeping people waiting. It’s my revenge on the lot in general. But as I said before, I’m not a bitter person.