Shaving Off the Greenery
written by: Talya Salman
It felt like the ocean would burst in my heart. Only in my heart. The waves crashing on the shore, the mermaids skittering within the depths of ripples, and the dark, dead blue of Poseidon. It was only a fleeting moment, till my eyes wept profusely. Especially with the information of shattered love.
It wasn’t that my heart wasn’t already full. It wasn’t that I already did not love somebody, it was that I could not define love as a thrifted device. You could not be in love and be at the cusp of falling in love again. Like a bushed mountain, shaved from all its greenery, like finding the same mountain after a decade and a five with only scattered, minuscule trees. A division of nature, a division of trees. What a sorcery.
The sprint of legs, a crown of hair on his head like a goblet of drink, too tedious to touch his eyes. Twinkles sparkling in his eyes, a representation of perfect mischief. The appealing haughtiness, the endless anecdotes, the curious mind, all babblings but mercilessly intriguing. By the eighth class, one could be mindlessly, wholeheartedly gouging eyes on him.
“You know, when he grows up, he will be one of the pleasing guys, with plenty of girls around him. He will turn out to be a good-looking man,” I said to my colleague.
- Shaving Off the Greenery - November 14, 2025
