Dada 164

But wait a moment. If all this was pre –ordained, who would let you imagine different ways of reckoning. This was their certainty. One of our teachers used to talk of literature as a mirror, what about my reflection? I got to thinking about hangings. I‘d heard of those in the past, of pirates hanging from Gallows at the movies while the crowd below gazed up at them; not just the movies but when the white rajahs came to this island and strung up the rebels. What must that second be like when the knot quickens around your neck and you are left to swing. Does that nano second under the hood last a lifetime. Does everything grow bright before the rope jumps, the trap opens and your neck snaps ? Was it all the same if they killed you privately, discreetly, behind a prison wall with a hint of shame and a great deal of efficiency or could you make it glorious ?, If only for that fraction of a second but in that time you could write a trilogy. I thought of each new dawn to come. It became as precious to me as the long drawn out process of my appeal. I did my best to not let my mind wander on this but when I lay down and looked up at the sky and forced myself to study it, it opened as much fascination for me as the memory of my bedroom in Dada’s house and the yellow sunlight where Mo walked.